Slightly Pre-Friday Sorta-Fluff: I’m Kate Fucking Harding

So, the other night, I went to see my friend (and sometime Shapeling) Tari play at a local bar, and as usual, I was slightly surprised by how awesome she is. Not because I have any good reason to underestimate her, but because A) I just don’t hear her play all that often, and B) it’s always a little surprising to see someone you mostly know in one context (in this case, the internet and $5 martini night at another local bar) in a different context, where they happen to kick a hundred kinds of ass. I have all sorts of friends who are writers and artists and performers, all of whom I know are tremendously talented and hardworking, and yet, when I see evidence of their tremendous talent and hard work, I still go, “Oh! Right! You really aren’t fucking around, are you?” ‘Cause it always seems a little magical, even if you know better.

So I did that the other night, when Tari came over to talk to Al and me in between sets. I was all, “Holy shit, that was so awesome!” like she’d just spontaneously done a backflip off the bar or rescued a kitten from a burning building or something, as opposed to doing something she has spent basically her entire fucking life training to do, and which she practices continuously, and which makes up a substantial portion of her identity. Like, WHO KNEW?

You know who knew? (I mean, besides me, if I’d thought about it for half a second.) Tari. She is, after all, the one practicing and performing and listening to herself all the damned time. And here is the actually surprising (well, not if you know Tari, but still) awesome thing: She said as much. Instead of just being all, “Aw, shucks, thank you, you’re too kind, and really, XYZ didn’t go as well as I hoped, and I’m still working on ABC, but I guess I’ve had worse shows…” she said something like, “Thanks. Yeah, I like to think I’m good at what I do. I could act all self-deprecating, but it is, you know… what I do.”

And Shapelings, I am ashamed to tell you I had a moment there — just a little one, like a second long — of thinking, “Wow, that was –” Except, before I could even get to what it was — arrogant? cocky? inappropriate? — I was like, KATE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WHAT THAT WAS WAS THE TRUTH. And P.S. You think exactly the same thing about yourself.

And so I said as much. Something like, “Yeah, I know what you mean. After 25 years or so of practice, I’m pretty sure I can write.”

And we laughed. And part of my brain even noted, in that moment, that what just happened was unusual and very cool: Two women had just had a conversation in which they admitted out loud that they were good at something, without feeling the need to qualify it with a bunch of stuff about how they’re not as good as they could be, or how other people are so much better, or how the things they’re good at aren’t really important in the scheme of things. I almost said “a bunch of bullshit” there, but you know, it’s not bullshit. We’re not as good as we could be, because who is? (Also, the years ahead would be pretty bleak if we had no improvement to look forward to.) And there are people who are much better at what we do. And in certain schemes of certain things, at least, who gives a rat’s ass if you can write or sing well? So none of those statements actually qualify as bullshit, in and of themselves. But that compulsive need to acknowledge all of those things whenever someone gives you a compliment, to make sure no one could ever accuse you of being arrogant or cocky or inappropriately self-congratulatory about a demonstrated skill you have worked really hard on building? That’s bullshit.

And I thought maybe I should write a post about that, about how qualifying anything that might sound even vaguely self-esteemy is such an ingrained habit for so many women, we not only do it to ourselves, we police our friends when they don’t. About how I sat there for that one second, even if that’s all it was, and thought “WTF? She’s not supposed to say that!” when Tari said the exact same thing about herself that I’d just said. And there is a whole other post somewhere in my brain about how believing that only other people had the authority to determine whether I was good or bad, pretty or unpretty, funny or unfunny, etc., was at the core of my self-hatred and miserable body image for oh, 15 or 20 years.

But right now, I don’t want to talk about that. Right now, I want to talk about Sady fucking Doyle.

Sady fucking Doyle, if for some reason you’re not familiar with her, is the proprietress of Tiger Beatdown. And she recently went gloriously apeshit on a troll called Freddie, who was your fairly typical, if impressively relentless, mansplainer who totes considers himself a feminist but fears for the future of the movement because it’s full of all these lady feminists saying things he doesn’t agree with and/or things he ostensibly agrees with but not presented the way he would say them (note: joking makes feminists seem unserious, even if everything else makes us humorless), and if we would all just shut up for five minutes and listen to reason, we could work together and really get some social justice going! But tragically for womankind and indeed humanity, all these unpleasant, talking, joking women everywhere make feminism a hard sell to normal people! DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT, YOU GUYS?

So, yeah. Sady went off. And then she went off some more and some more and some more and there were a lot of delightful boner jokes, and the phrase “I’m Sady fucking Doyle!” was invoked, and you should go catch up on all that if you missed it. I just got myself fully caught up today, and that’s when I learned that Sady has already pretty much written the post I wanted to write about that little moment with Tari, which you should read all of, but here’s the paragraph that says it all:

And, yeah, the “I’m Sady fucking Doyle” thing turned people off. You think I didn’t know it would turn people off? Women are not supposed to say that shit, even when it’s true. And it was there completely on purpose, with full acknowledgement that people would call me a narcissist, self-absorbed, in love with myself, etc, for saying it. Because I wanted to convey to Freddie that Freddie ain’t shit, largely because he actually ain’t. But I also wanted Freddie, who is hugely terrified of women who assert their authority and primacy in the feminist movement, to be confronted with the sight of a woman acknowledging, accepting, and reveling in her own authority and power. That shit is terrifying, often even to women, but definitely to men. So now Freddie’s sulking that Sady Doyle is “telling everyone about how impressed with herself she is.” And I am. Because I knew that would piss him the hell off. Because I’m a woman, and I have accordingly been taught my entire life to view myself as lesser-than, to devalue my own accomplishments, to accept it when other people treat me as lesser-than and devalue me, which they (if they are men, especially) have been taught to do. And I refuse. I say no. I tell you I’m Sady fucking Doyle, and I expect you to believe it. Being a woman who likes herself, is proud of herself, is impressed with herself, in public: There might not be a more subversive act.

I believe it. And you know that opinion is worth something because I’m Kate fucking Harding.

So this is actually not a very fluffy topic, but it at least struck me as an opportunity for some positive feel-good commentary (in addition to the usual analysis). Because Shapelings, I want to know what makes you awesome. We’ve actually done “toot your own horn” fluff threads before, but this time, I’m not interested in anything so ladylike as a mere toot. Today, I’m not interested in your tiny superpowers; I’m interested in your power. I want to know what makes you Screen fucking Name. Lay it on me.

I’ve really gotten into reading Sady and Amanda Hess of the Sexist as of late – wow, two really engaging, smart writers.

What makes me Jane Fucking Nolan is that I’m a good writer (though I could stand to write more), I’m funny, and goddammit, I’m still here and I am absolutely 100 percent me. I own myself and every quirk, surly mood, and supposed flaw – and I don’t apologize for my existence one little fucking bit. And what I’ve learned is that the right people still love me no matter what and I love them.

Even if there are days where they irritate the pants off of me (and vice-versa).

So yesterday I had a “pre-workshop exercise” I had to prepare and email to this executive running a leadership seminar that I’m attending next week. One of the questions was of course “tell me something about yourself.” To which I wanted to say “I love doing crafts like sewing and knitting and making a garment from string or flat fabric makes me really happy” Or equivalent.

Only then I was afraid he’d think I was a silly girl doing silly girl things so I tried to think of something more awesome. But then I couldn’t. Being crafty is something I’m genuinely good at, so I decided to say that I like crafting, but I still made some self deprecating joke about it and I kind of regret that.

So here’s the thing, I love to knit and sew, and I’m pretty good at it. People like the things I make, and I work hard to make quality items. so I’m Fucking Lexy, and I can knit a fucking sweater, so there.

You know what, I’m a geek. I’m not a “girl geek” or aspiring geek. I’m a full out geek and I’m proud of that. I’ve whipped up code for a dice rolling program for my first table top campaign because I didn’t have dice yet. I’ve been dragged to a party where I stayed completely sober, read on my iPhone a bit and then told everyone to shut up because BSG was on. And yeah, no one listened to me but I tried to watch anyway. I’m proud of my collection of geeky black tee shirts. I’m less proud of the fact that I played WoW on and off for three years, but that’s okay.

And my boobs do not detract from my geekiness. I’m Power fucking Girl and I’m good at being me.

I’m glad you wrote this, Kate. I just did my first paid writing gig. And the feeling is…awesome. Scary, and awesome. The scary part is the deadline/writing something for someone to read part. But freaking awesome. I’ve wanted be a writer for so long.

A writer who gets paid to do it. For 8 months or so, I’ve been a writer who gets published in a magazine but doesn’t pay. Now, I wrote, and got paid. I got paid!

So I tooted my own horn on my blog and was aware of how it would sound to most people – self-absorbed, narcissistic. Full of myself. But who cares? If me being glad that I got a writing gig for the first time, even if it is just a one-time 25 dollar thing, makes me narcissistic, okay!

I’m narcissistic then! I’m not bad at writing. I’m getting pretty good at fiction. I have one story, in particular (coffee, breast exams, and condoms, which is available on my blog) that I’m proud of. I don’t cringe when I read it.

And I’m not afraid to say that I rocked this story. I am a good writer. I love it. And I don’t have to be self-deprecating if someone tells me that they liked my writing or I’m good. I usually just giggle, blush and say thank you.

But really…..
I just got a writing assignment that paid me.
I’m a writer now.
In the real sense of the word.
Yes, I am going to bask in this.

I’m in pastry school. I’m damned good at what I do. I’ve gotten straight As in my program. I’m the one everyone else comes to when they have questions or need help.

(Oh, and by the way, my community college professional program requires more math and chemistry – not to mention teamwork and time management – than I ever needed in “real” college. So suck it, part-of-me-that-is-convinced-everyone-else-who-graduated-from-my-hoity-toity-prep-school-is-looking-down-on-me.)

And you know what else? I do all of this while being the primary caregiver of three children under the age of 5. My kids are happy, healthy, and as well-behaved as their ages and temperaments allow.

I am a good writer. I haven’t been paid for my writing, but I got into Vermont College of Fine Arts and I’ve been published in newspapers, so it’s only a matter of time. I happen to love what I’m working on now.

In college, I majored in Korean Language and Literature which was hard. And now I’m a teacher, which is also hard. This year I did my first year of teaching with no prior education experience, my teachers’ license, and my Montessori license, and I am almost done with all three and my kids learned stuff on top of it all. I have first graders who can sing all 45 US presidents in order, and second graders who can write topic sentences, and I taught them that, and next year, I will teach them even more.

I am English Fucking Breakfast and I am awesome at making people laugh. I am not ashamed to call people out on their bullshit. I fight the good fight out loud and in my head against all the shitty shitty messages we are fed. Right now I think I’m Awesome.

Kate, I love that you wrote this – I followed the whole thing over at TB, and it was, indeed, glorious. And when I got my own trolls on the blog I just started about rape recovery (which, by the way, was inspired by Sady and her blog) like, THE DAY AFTER her post, I turned around and laid down the law, and said I was Gayle fucking Force, empress of the blog Unnatural Forces, and don’t leave stupid comments or I will delete your sad troll ass. It felt sooooooooo good. Because not only do women rarely assert authority, there are very few spaces where they are able to do that. I took back my space. It was brilliant.

Also, I am in law school, and in the middle of finals, but I am Gayle fucking Force and I am going to save the world once I get my J.D. Damn straight.

I have written five novels and one that I think is damn good and that some other people think is damn good too. I can read three languages and stumble through the basics in another two. I hiked three kilometers through Kamakura, Japan in the mud, and helped translate for lost tourists. I can knit a hat and crochet a ninja. I am Emily Expletive Infix H., and I’m awesome.

I am the mother fucking Chairperson of The Friends of (Where I Live) and I don’t need your approval OR your position to make decisions! I actually realized that last week when I was talking to a colleague about booking a speaker as a collaboration between two non-profits in my area. The guy was all, yeah we should talk about it, committee, committee, committee and BOOM! I realized I was the mother fucking Chairperson and I could book the event any way I pleased because I was ready, willing and able and he just wasn’t. I ALSO realized that I didn’t even NEED to have this convo with him – because I’m the mother fucking CHAIRPERSON. I could tell the President of his board what I was doing and not have to talk to committee man at all. It was a sweet, sweet revelation.

I also own that business and this house and sign the fucking paychecks, thank you very much. I have a young male staff member who just can’t accept that I’m the fucking boss because I have a VAGINA. And I’m the BOSS. His days are numbered.

I am a damn good writer. I can explain complicated things to people who’ve never thought about them before in a way that is both clear and respectful of my listeners’ intelligence. I can speak Chinese, sing harmony when needed, and bake a good loaf of bread.

I can write about most anything, sing in 7 languages, and make awesome alfredo from scratch. I can teach 8 year olds to sing in any of those previously mentioned 7 languages, teach them how to do song-and-dance numbers, and charm the birds down from the trees.

This is so great! It truly is one of the most subversive and feminist acts we can do, to proudly say we’re good at something and not take any crap about it.

I’m damn good at Japanese, I went to an academic conference a couple weeks ago and presented a paper on videogames though I only have a Bachelor’s and have never written an arts paper before, and I’m making a videogame on my own time, and I will finish it this summer dammit! I’m Jill Fucking Astley! (No point in hiding my real name, it’s all over the net with my nickname).

I’ve been trying really, really hard lately to declare I’m Laura Fucking Atkins and I am Good at what I do. OK, my superpower is taking money from spammers … er email marketers and telling them to stop spamming. But, hey, I’m good at it. I’m smart, I am basically self taught in my career, I own a business, I am logical, I am considered an expert and a go-to person in email.

The thing is, standing up and saying “I’m good at what I do” was, for me, incredibly subversive. The first few times I did it, I kinda looked around and waited for people to contradict me. Except they didn’t. And, it’s getting easier. I’m still afraid to say it in some contexts, but I’ll get there.

And my magic superpower is knowing what time it is. I have this ability to say “it’s X” and usually be within 5 minutes of real time. I also have an alarm clock in my head that has me going into the kitchen 30 seconds before the alarm goes off thinking “why hasn’t the alarm gone off” — this was amazingly effective when I was working in the lab. I could be timing multiple experiments and make it to the right place before the timer went off. That’s my superpower.

I’m Fucking Krishna, and not only can I DO maths, but I TEACH maths, to people who are nine, people who are sixteen, people who are thirty-one, and people who are seventy-eight.

I’m Fucking Krishna, and I have written seven motherfucking novels, including one Magnum Opus that WILL bloody get publishing before I die, dammit, all 175,000 words of it, because my buddy who worked in publishing for twenty years AND got her vampire-sex novel published during the worst year for first-time novelists ever (incredibly sexy by the way – Necking by Chris Salvatore) read it and told me that I had created the best character she had ever encountered.

Thank you, Kate. I have been carrying that compliment around for months and have finally admitted it.

I’m Dani-fucking-elle and I’m good at learning new things. I’m good at not being good at new things I do but not giving a fuck ’cause it’s fun. I’m good at cursing like a sailor. I’m good at expressing myself in the written word. I’m better in English than most native speakers. I’m good with computer hardware and good with cleaning up viruses off the computers of people who click ‘yes’ on every pop-up and open every e-mail attachment. I’m good at object-oriented PHP coding. I’m good at taking the initiative in a group and organising meetings. I’m good at surviving possibly anything by being too damn stubborn to give up. And if I’m presently not good enough at something for my own standards I know I’m smart enough to get better at it.

The odd thing is, ever since I started being more assertive – to indeed say, “yes, I am good at this!” to other people and being openly proud about it, I have gotten nothing but *good* feedback. And even when you can’t immediately list off things you’re good at, it’s good enough to stop listing off the things you’re bad at.

And stop making excuses. That was a big one for me. When you make a mistake, apologize, do better. Don’t apologize and list off all the reasons why you suck. Just suck it up, accept failure, learn from it, and move on. People will appreciate it. Not just in the workplace, either; a lot of people who get called out on their privilege can totally benefit from this. Instead of trying to apologize and make an excuse for why you’re being sexist/racist/ableist/cissexist/etc, just apologize and take the damn hint.

Hey, after spending 20 years in the workforce, I’m finishing my undergrad in my early forties. Better late than never!
I’m finishing my Junior year this semester: I’ve got a 3.91 cumulative GPA, and I just won the Dean’s Recognition award for most outstanding student in my department. I’m often told that I write very well. So after years of feeling like crap, I’ve decided that yeah, I’m pretty smart. I hope to go on to Grad school and I’m even toying with the idea of law school. I’ve also got an awesome, relatively well adjusted seven year old daughter who I adore. My name is Stacia Fucking Anonymous and I’ve got a bright fucking future ahead of me! To hell with the FOBT!!!

So, yeah, I’m Knit Me a Fucking Pony, and I Twitter like a mad Tweetin’ thing.

Which is actually more badass than it sounds — I know people don’t always understand Twitter — but I do, because I am the kind of person that absorbs everything I see, everything I read, I suck it up and soak it in until I am all kinds of full of all sorts of wacky knowledge, and then I explode it in a giant stream of rainbows, kittens, and righteous rage on to the Internet. I’ve got over a thousand people following me, and I don’t do anything but be myself, send some knowledge out there, say hello.

And sometimes people ask me why I don’t write, do something more active, pro-active, and I have to say, look, yo, I am KnitMeAFuckingPony, and what I do is curate. I raise consciousness. I get out there and I put things in peoples hands and I ask them to educate themselves, yo.

I can write the way I want to write, but what I really want to do is collect and absorb and then share. I want people to know all the glorious, wonderful people that I know, and learn all the glorious, wonderful things that I learn, and understand all the beautiful, terrible, wonderful and true things that I understand about the world.

And fucking up and getting back up is part of being glorious, and it’s part of the learning process, and let me tell you, I have that process down. From the wound to the sulk to the nurse to the clarity to the getting back up on my feet and diving back in for another taste of Shit I Didn’t Know Yesterday.

It’s hard to do this without breaking my anonymity, so I’ll have to stay vague, but: I’m Rebecca-Fucking-(name not used on the internet) and I am the foremost expert in the world in my particular interdisciplinary field. Yes, the world. Every article that I read that’s in that field, I’m the one who spots the errors; any article I’ve written that was below-par was due to lack of time, not lack of expertise; and I’ve written some kick-ass articles. And I’ve done all this with some really rotten obstacles as well, both personal and societal.

I am Optimistic Fucking Cynic (hence “O.C.”) and I am a damn good librarian! I can explain how to find information to students who don’t give a damn about it, and they come out of the class saying “wow, that was a lot more interesting than I thought it would be!” Once I helped a student so goddamn well that she WEPT.

I know more about the clothing worn in mid 19th century gold mining towns than ANYBODY.

I finished my PhD just to be stubborn. And when a self centered doofus of a white male professor kept calling me “Miss” in my classroom I made him call me Doctor. And he’s acted like a little lamb ever since. BOO-YAH.

I write. That’s mostly my superpower. (That and hilarious brain-to-mouth missteps when tabletop gaming that result in statements such as “So she flings her arms forward and her sleeves fly out like Mistress Snow in Hero except instead of martial arts, lightning comes out” and similarly “wait WHAT did I just say??” moments.)

I tend to qualify all my statements about my writing, or my gaming, or whatever–but you know what? I am a damn good writer. And I run a good tabletop game. And I’m proud of it.

This reminds me of when, in high school, I posted in my livejournal that I’d gotten 5s on all the AP tests I took, and I wasn’t surprised about it. I thought it was a pretty matter-of-fact thing. I mean, I was happy to get the scores I did, I posted it because all my friends were talking about their results too, and the whole point of saying I wasn’t surprised was that it wasn’t really a big deal for me. I did well at something I’m good at, whatever. It’d be a hell of a lot more impressive if I’d worked my ass off getting better at something I struggle with, you know?

And someone left an anonymous comment telling me I ought to be more humble. And I was like, what the fuck is that? Am I supposed to pretend I haven’t noticed that I’m fucking smart (and also really good at the particular kinds of skills that standardized tests require)? That I didn’t realize while I was taking those exams that I knew the answers to questions and I wasn’t just guessing and getting lucky? Was I supposed to lie? That still bugs me, because, seriously. Shut up with your sour grapes. I think false modesty is gross and I’m not going to lie to save someone else’s ego. I mean, I don’t spend a lot of time being all impressed with myself or flaunting a sense of superiority, because there’s a lot more to life and to people that I value than just the particular kinds of intellectual skills I excel at, but I haven’t failed to notice that I’m usually the smartest one in the room. Other people tell me I’m fucking smart, teachers and classmates and friends, it’s not like it’s some delusion that I don’t have evidence for, and I don’t see any point in pretending to disbelieve.

You guys, I’m Lorelei fucking Kelly, and I’m capable of observing the world and drawing reasonable conclusions, and I have noticed that I am fucking smart!

Also: in two weeks I’m going to graduate and be a goddamn Master of Human-Computer Interaction Design. A fucking smart one.

I am Tea-fucking-spoon*, and I’ve spent the last 20 months wrangling a full time family, a full time job, and two-thirds time graduate school, and I’m going to graduate in August with fucking honors, despite a whole bunch of people and things that tried to get in my fucking way.

I rolled the fuck over them, and I will roll the fuck over anything or anyone else who tries to stop me, because I fucking want this, I’m fucking good at it, and I’m fucking worth it.

I always was a hobbyist writer and an ex-boyfriend convinced me that I was no good at it so I quit for years. Last year, for fun, I entered the Blizzard Global Creative Writing Contest hosted by Blizzard Entertainment because I love video games and I’ve always loved Blizzard games in particular.

There were 1600 entries. And I won.

I won the grand fucking prize.

Now I chat with the Blizzard developers regularly and have discussed everything from orc politics to what I’d like to see them do with their female characters with them. They’ve nicknamed me Mustang Sally. So even though I go by “Lani” online generally, I’m Mustang Fucking Sally, and god damn I’m proud.

I haven’t accomplished as much as…..strike that bullshit……I’m Regina-fucking-T! I’m a kick-ass Mom with a Social Work degree who now dedicates her time making sure her kid and others get the extra help they need, because dammit, it’s important! I am sharp witted, quick with the comebacks, honest, sometimes insecure, and devoted to whatever cause I believe in. I know how to fight with integrity and I’m damn good at motivating people to do their best. I get mad as hell at injustices and write my legislators regularly. I love with abandon and raw emotion, and I am loyal to a fault. I wear my heart on my sleeve and can identify and deal with every emotion I produce shamelessly and proudly. I make an amazing Panzanella Salad with homemade croutons toasted in olive oil that gets fucking devoured every single time I make it. I love hidden object games and sudoku, and consume every smart as hell blog (like this one) with passion and fervor daily. Writing is a dream of mine and I have spent a good part of the last five years writing down family stories from my childhood so that I can see how far I’ve come from that life. I find humor in most things and laugh heartily and often, while sporting the cutest damn dimples you’ll ever see!

Oh! That Queer Chick, you know what? I’m not going to be embarrassed about that one and leave it out, because hell yeah, it deserves credit.

Every person I have slept with has told me I’m the best lay they’ve ever had. They have said it genuinely, repeatedly, and enthusiastically; and while the affirmation is reassuring, I knew it was true anyway. So I am also a fucking good fuck, and I am proud of it.

Wow. You’re so right. I’m so used to thinking, all the frigging time, “Oh, whatever I do a million other people younger and cuter than me can do much better,” but would I actually be bothering to write an entire (YA) novel if I really believed that was true? Much less planning to polish it and send it out? And I almost got one published once! (I was so, so close, you wouldn’t believe how close. And then when it didn’t happen, I just gave up for over a decade. Boohiss.)

So yeah…I’m Meow fucking Ser, sir, and if anyone can write a better YA novel about autism and baseball than me, I’ll eat it. Nyaah.

I love that so many people are using their real names here. Totally understand those who don’t (although tee hee, Volcanista, I know who you are, and NOW I KNOW YOU’RE GOOD IN BED), but that’s been a happy surprise.

Oh no! Only my third comment on the blog ever, and it’s to brag? How unladylike! I’m M. fucking Prokosh, and I’m a damn good poet. I’m 22, and my first professionally published poem is coming out in a Toronto lit magazine in early summer. I am writing a chapbook of poetry and it is good so far, even though it is so, so hard.

I’m also graduating with my BA honours in English lit in six weeks, despite a horrifically hard term last spring that left two low grades on my transcript—and I got into grad school to study Library Science at one of the top universities in Canada. I dealt with a really difficult prof last semester who refused to accommodate my visual disability, and still managed to get an A- in the class. I’m a really good listener and a personable, kind human who tries to give others the benefit of the doubt. When I move away this summer, people I love will miss me and keep in touch.

I am Kate Fucking James, and I am a really good writer. I travelled across the deserts of northwest China on my own and wrote a book about it that got fucking good reviews. I also cook a fucking good curry.
Props to Knit Me a Fucking Pony, whose twittering brilliance led me here.

When I was in my prior field, I was one of the best in the business. Hands down. For several months after I left the field to go back to school, I still got calls from headhunters and former colleagues looking to hire me back. Even though my career drove me up the wall, and was affecting my mental health, I still KNEW I was one of the best out there. And I have never been ashamed to say it.

I left that field to go to graduate school. I’m finishing my masters in May and start my PhD program in the fall at a highly ranked university. And I am the ONLY admit in my specialty, AFTER the program decided not to admit ANY students focused in that specialty. Yeah. I’m that good.

I am SHADOW FUCKING BOXER, and I have been the best, I am the best, and I WILL BE the best.

I never comment but I had to with this as it feels good to take credit where credit is due when I do things…me!

Things I and many others will say I’m good at:

-Being worldly – I moved overseas from America after travelling thru this country 5 years ago, knowing no one simply because I loved it. And now, I’m off to another land and will conquer it as I have this one.

-I can cook. Like really cook. My Cordon Bleu trained chef friend has consulted with me on various dishes.

-I have a shitload of friends…because people genuinely like me and I genuinely like people. Friend in this country are in awe at how many I have when they, who are from here, have a fraction of what I do.

I am Red Fucking Sonja, and I am an EXCELLENT veterinary technician. I know what drugs don’t get used with what, I can place a catheter in anything not dead (and some critters that technically ARE), and I have had doctors ask me what I think that they should do.

I am fucking smart. I am learning, in leaps and bounds, to be an awesome animal trainer and NOTHING will stop me in that. I can charm the socks off of a group of people in 10 minutes. I have no fear of public speaking, and will cheerfully make a fool of myself in front of a group to make a point. I give head like a fucking goddess.

Wow. I just came from an event for women in leadership, and we were talking about what we bring to the world. Ironic.

I love this post. I, too, always feel I need to hide my accomplishments, and I get embarrassed when people compliment me, as if they were something to be embarrassed about. So I’ll give it a whirl (for my first post here, no less); I think it will be good for me.

I’m Fucking Sparky, and I am a fantastic fucking student. I can write an A paper like nobody’s business. And when the men in my grad school, MBA, classes can’t figure out their homework, they call me.

I am also a great motivator. I can talk about fucking accounting with passion, and I get someone excited about waking up at 5 am on a Saturday to spend the day at a conference talking about bullshit they don’t care about. I can inject excitement into just about any project, and people eat it up.

I am fucking smart- always have been, always will be, and I’ll always love every minute of learning something new.

I am a fucking good cook- I can make up dishes using things I already have and deciding midway through to do something else and it STILL comes out tasting delicious.

I am fucking funny- I have made everyone I know laugh and sometimes I’m so fucking funny I make myself laugh before I’ve even finished saying whatever it is that’s so fucking funny.

I am a fucking fantastic wife- I’m supportive and thoughtful and giving and I fight with insurance companies and doctors and pharmacies to make sure my husband gets the care he needs and I don’t let ANYTHING stand in my way.

I have a fucking huge heart and a fucking huge brain and a fucking huge talent and I am fucking amazing.

In short, I am Fyre Fucking Forged and I’m proud as hell to be posting with the rest of you. Thank you for sharing your stories and your bravery.

I make people laugh. Often. Hard. Simply by having fantastic delivery on the stories of my every day fricking life! And the retelling of the daily stories of other people’s every day fricking lives! Someday I will do standup. And I. Will. Kill.

And I’m a writer. I think hard and have read much to know the correct word to convey the intent and purpose behind my thoughts and opinions and struggles. I have novels in my head, characters and places and Exciting Things simply Waiting to be let out.

I need to find a way to post this whole post/essay up in front of me and remind myself that I am a wonderful and amazing person. And gosh darn it, people Like Me! (but no, they really do!) I’ve been heavy on the self-loathing wagon lately. Will be getting on the self-respect and Laughing Fricking Mouse wagon starting NOW.

I am Amy Fucking How and I am going to type this without any shame. For the last three months my greatest accomplishment is being a terrific fucking wife. Yep, no one can revoke my feminist card and devalue me on this.

My husband has a chronic GI disease which is currently acting up. And I have figured out a way to help and it is actually helpful. He is less sick, has more energy and will hopefully be back in an inactive phase sooner. I have become an expert on what foods he should eat and how to prepare these foods. I have thoroughly educated myself on this disease and can speak with some degree of expertise with his physician. And though at first sort of taken aback by my can do spirit during this period of illness my husband is really fucking grateful. So there you go. I am an excellent care giving wife.

But I am not Amy Fucking How. I am Amy (rather gently for now) fucking Bob.

I am Kris fucking Tin, and I am a kick ass social scientist. I am finishing the 2nd year of my first faculty position, and I have published 5 peer reviewed articles in highly ranked journals with another in revision. I might procrastinate (jeebus, do I procrastinate), but I GET SHIT DONE!

I’m sunflwr fucking moonbeam, and I’m a damn smart, passionate, driven woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone and can handle frigging anything. I’m a damn good mother, a decent writer, and one of these days I’m going to be an amazing pagan priest.

Also, I’m fucking interesting. I need to start showing that instead of hiding all the interesting parts of me lest I offend someone.

My self esteem has been in the shitter lately but really thinking about it, if you stripped me down to nothing else, I know I could get by on my sense of humor and personality alone. There isn’t a lot that I’m good at DOING but I’m exceptionally good at BEING – smart, funny, bright, stylish and vibrant.

And I have been and WILL BE the very best fat fashion blogger, once I give myself the chance to prove it.

I’ve been reading for ages but I pretty much never comment. This post struck a serious chord with me, though, and I think I *need* to write this comment more than anything else in the world right now. So… woo!

I’m Megan Fucking (Distinctive Last Name) and I lived.

I was beaten and emotionally tortured by my parents. Starved and abused by foster parents. Molested by both a grandfather and a cousin. Emotionally abused by a spouse. And yes, all of that fucking sucks. But you know what…?

I was going to say “I survived,” but I’m not, because in itself it’s a form of self-deprecation. I didn’t just survive. I fucking lived.

I’m a brilliant person, able to pick up anything and learn it until you’d never know I hadn’t done it since the day I was born. I still have my creativity, plus the determination and drive to use it. I can write, I can paint, and I can sing an aria that would knock your socks off. I am nurturing, caring, and sensitive to others’ desires… and I use those powers for one of the best uses possible, because I am by far the best lover any of my partners have ever had. I am a genius with shapes and spatial relationships and finding new ways to use that. (Ask me about my knitting!)

I didn’t just pick up the pieces and duct tape them back together… I put them back together so you could never tell they were broken, and I am stronger for it.

I’m a kick-ass singer; my voice reaches the stratosphere.
I have a wicked sense of humor.
I can do amazing things with eye make up.
I’m a fiercely loyal friend.
And I’ve gathered up enough courage to go out tomorrow night and flirt with a guy I’ve been interested in for a while. YES. I will do this.
I fuckin’ rock.

I am a good actress, a tremendous singer, a strong producer, a trusted confidant, a befriender of the free and the wary. I attended three colleges in four years and *still* graduated on time, with honors. I became a personal assistant to a prominent playwright at age 22. I have co-cast a Broadway benefit, been sent to London to produce a show at an historic theater, and co-edited a play anthology. I got into my MFA program on the strength of a videotaped audition. I have premiered heartbreaking roles in tiny but monumentally beautiful plays; I have reinterpreted classics. I champion theater practitioners I believe in and people take me seriously because I know my shit. I give a great pep talk and mean every word I say.

I do things that embarrass me because they seem worth doing.
I make lots of friends because through them I am reminded that this world is a worthwhile place.
I am awesome at having intense internal debates.

I’m M.-fucking-K., and I’m good at taking the lead on group projects without fucking apologizing for it. Not only that, but I tell people that their part of the group project sucked without qualifying it to soften the blow . Yeah. I rock. I know.

I’m Livia fucking Augusta and I am fucking good at explaining critical and interpretive theory. I can link literary and archaeological sources into a brand fucking new interpretation of really old literature, monuments, artifacts and rituals. My dissertation is going to rock Dr. fucking Advisor’s little socks right off. I also make mean blueberry banana pancakes.

Coworkers know I am a damn fine software tester, tech writer, manager and project manager. I’m also a damn fine juggler, of relationships, work, home and writing. I’m a good friend. I’m still learning as a sound tech, but I also know I’m better than some others who work in the area.

I started reading the comments, and I got intimidated, so I had to skip the last few. This post isn’t about being intimidated by how awesome everybody else is, but realizing how awesome I am. So here goes!

I am Literate Fucking Shrew, and I am a survivor! I am damn good at Getting Through It, Moving On and Moving UP, bitches!

I am also a damn good writing tutor. I can explain commas to people who are terrified of them, and I can give people mad writing skillz and (most importantly) confidence to tell their stories because I KNOW that their stories are IMPORTANT, damnit, and everyone can be a writer! One day I will be a kick-ass writing teacher, but for now, I am an excellent writing tutor.

And I’m also a damn good writer myself. I’m almost finished with my second novel, been published in a few mags, and I’m actually making up a MFing LANGUAGE, Tolkien-style, for my novels. That’s right, creating a whole fucking langugage. With only mah big, sexy brain! BOOyah!

Oh, yeah, and one other thing… I’m finishing my Bachelor’s at age 32 and I REFUSE to be ashamed of it! That is a major accomplishment! Oh, and there isn’t a professor in my department who doesn’t think I’m smart as hell because I AM!

I am Kari Fucking Bean, and I’m a badass law student. When people don’t understand things, they ask me questions. When I say something, the professor listens. When my favorite professor found out I’d been hired to be the tutor for her 1L class in the fall, she said she was thrilled. THRILLED. And I refuse to apologize when I mention that I’m awesome in conversation and people look all shocked.

What? I *am* awesome. I am smart, and I work hard, and I made quiche this week. Quiche! From scratch! I can play Float On on bass on hard in Rock Band. I have a cute new haircut that has been getting compliments all week. I am going to make law review after the competition next month, and no one can make me think otherwise.

And I have the distinct good taste to be friends with a lot of women who are Fucking Awesome in their own right.

I’m Liza-the-fucking-second, and I’m the world’s best veterinarian. No, I am. Don’t believe me? I have healed the sick, the blind, the hopeless, I have brought new living beings into the world, I have held dead things in my hands and brought them back to life. I know what’s best for your pet.

I spend every day “making it work” for people with no money, no experience, no clue. I believe them when they say something’s just not right, and I find out what it is, and I make it right. And when I can’t? I let their pets die without suffering or indignity, and I make people feel good about it.

I do that, every day, over and over, and every day, I go back in there, knowing that most of what I do is end lives. And every day, I find a way to do it without losing sight of the fact that what I do is important, especially when I’m not saving lives.

I’m not a “doggy doctor,” I’m not “almost like a real doctor,” I am a medical fucking professional and I am a damn good one.

I’m Ms. Fucking Heathen* and I’m a kickass rune caster. I can make food (admittedly not always good food) out of an almost empty cupboard, and I knit great hats, shawls and socks. I’ve taught myself how to do almost all the things I know. If you put me in any online game, I’m dominating the economy by the end of the month, something I never considered to be an accomplishment until I found out other people have trouble with it. In FPS games I can head shot people with an assault rifle from clear across the map, I’m so good people think I cheat.

Crap, all the other stuff I could brag about is all legal gray area stuff. I had to learn how to do it and do it well to get my movies and shows to actually have captions, but I’m not supposed to do it. Bugger that, stupid content providers can’t be bothered to caption it right, hell if I’m going to sit on my hands and wait for accessible media.

Oh yeah, I’m also a really good lay. I have references who will support this.

Kate, thanks so much for this thread; I’ve just made a huge decision – to turn down a PhD program in favor of moving to New York (something I’ve wanted to do since I graduated college) and finding a job with a pro-choice/women’s rights organization. It’s the right choice, but it’s also scary.

So, I am Me-fucking-ems, and I go after what is important to me. I survived four years at a super competitive college and won an award for my senior thesis. I have (as of next month) a master’s degree from fucking Harvard University. And, despite being accepted into the seemingly-perfect PhD program in a year in which no one is getting in anywhere, I am turning that offer down because it is not the right time and that is not where I’m supposed to be right now. I know myself and I will take risks to get where I need to be for my own happiness and well-being. I am smart, I am well spoken, and I know myself.

I’m Isabel fucking Knight. I am a goddamn genius, an excellent scholar, a great teacher, and a fat, female, and fucking bad-ass martial artist. I earned a 4.0 in my masters while taking a full load of courses, working as a full-load teaching assistant, and living on my own, supporting myself for the first time. I can teach English lit, composition or jujutsu to damn near anyone, and my Muay Thai instructor says that I have the makings of a good coach in that art as well.

I’ve also survived and escaped an ugly and abusive relationship when I was young, and managed to heal up enough that while the scars sometimes show, they don’t hold me back anymore.

…now that I’ve avoided qualifications for two paragraphs of “I am so awesome!”, I really want to do a little victory dance while shouting “Up yours, demons of false-modesty! I do not apologize for rocking!” Actually, I may go do that now.

I am also resilient as hell. I have spent two fucking years of my life being harassed, stalked, demeaned, and defamed, and it is not going to stop me. I refuse to allow another person that level of control over my life.

I am a single mother, working full time with a business on the side growing amazing organically grown cut flowers and run my own website. I have struggled my entire adult life to realize my dream and it finally came to fruition this year.

Raising my daughter to be a kind, compassionate and accepting human being has been the most fulfilling thing in my life. I knit, sew, garden, and I’m a pretty damn good cook a great friend and an even better mom.

I’m Ven fucking Detta, and I’m a kickass theatre technician who knows how to wield power tools and paint like no one’s business, then up and haul around the set I just painted and built. And that’s just what I get paid to do! I also rock at making beaded jewelry for family, friends, and coworkers who keep coming back to ask me if I can make jewelry for THEIR family, friends, and coworkers!

You know what? I’m fucking eloriane, and I make some fucking good movies! And I’ll be a motherfucking cinematographer if that’s what I want to do!

I’ve been thinking about editing, because editing is 20% women whereas cinematography is only 2% (yeah, for reals, 98% of cinematographers have dicks), and I enjoy editing even if I’m not sure I could stand it if it wasn’t my own footage, but you know? Fuck that! If I have to be twice as good to get half the credit, I’ll fucking be twice as good.

Or, you know, four times as good. Because I deserve more than half credit.

I am Whip-fucking-dizzy and I’m an extremely talented artist with an almost photographic memory. I can work on old cars, tile a kitchen and make a damn good chocolate cake. I know all the words to Schoolhouse Rock and a ridiculous amount of classic country music trivia, brew beer, drive like a fiend, swing dance and make soap from lye. I write amazing letters, both personal correspondence and formal complaints, sometimes elevating legaleze to an artform with my impressive levels of righteous indignation. At work, head litigators for major corporations ask for and take my advice on multi-million dollar lawsuits. I can manage projects like nobody’s business, I get things done. The past couple of years, I have worked my ass off taking care of my elderly grandparents because they are the two people who most taught me to have a huge fucking heart and care about people. I am a smart ass (in a good way), can strike up a conversation with anyone and have an awesome wit. I also have excellent taste in shoes and collect vintage radios.

And I fucking love this thread! I really needed the reminder but I am also learning so many really cool things about everyone else!

1) I’m in a Master’s program in graphic design and I am Kicking Its Ass. The program director loves me and everyone tells me I’m fucking talented. And from now on I’m going to make a conscious effort to accept the compliments happily and without apology, because Yes, thank you, my work is awesome.

2) I make awesome chainmail jewelry. Sometimes people even pay me to do so, which is awesome.

3) I’m a roller derby referee. I’m a voice of authority in a league of 40+ other women, and I work hard and make sacrifices to be as good as I can be. I have dozens of friends who call me Evil, and that is fucking awesome.

Oh man, just realised the comment above was the first time I’ve actually posted here – though I’ve been lurking round SP forever. But now I’m hugely embarassed that my first post was a big boast about how much I fucking rock. Still, I guess apologising for yourself goes against the spirit of the thread…

I am Anni-fucking-mal, and I am a damned good chemist. I did my PhD work with a Nobel-fucking-laureate, and I have 40+ patents.
I’m also fucking independent and resilient. I just went through a hellacious year and it sucked, but I made fucking lemonade out of lemons and am making the best of it. I’ll be relocating soon to start my dream job.

I’m Mara fucking Celes. I was the terror of my pre-law class. I had an entire department in literal fear of my debate skills, and I could command a classroom full of unruly college students with my voice. I was the only woman to survive my semester’s philosophy class. My name and picture still hang on the wall for my chemistry prowess. I took 17-21 credits a semester–I completed a B.S. in Biochemistry, and I am one French class from a B.A. in Political Science-Communications. I have more theology courses under my belt than I know what to do with. I ran sprint triathlons for fun. I was a writer for my university’s op-ed page. I threw parties where some people danced outside on my rooftop, where some cuddled on my driveway in the snow, where everyone would run outside to sing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” when a new person drove up. I worked as a teacher; I was fucking awesome at getting children to be enthusiastic about their lessons. I became a badass project manager and ran half a fucking company for three years, and I learned how to do it in less than six months. And now? I’ve been accepted to medical school, I’m training to run a marathon, and I write discourses on eros verses philia for fun. I am Mara. Fucking. Celes.

…God, that felt good!

For a few seconds there, I thought to myself, “But I have nothing to tell!”

I am Rebecca fuckin’ V. and I am a Heinlein hero. I can use damn near any tool, both of the hands and of the mind. I can build a viking slat bed, cook a kick-ass lasagna that makes my husband all goopy, make glass beads, build a computer, change a tire, darn a sock, and wire up a dollhouse.

I’ve done plumbing, electrical, masonry, and carpentry repairs to my house. I played recorder for 12 years in a renaissance dance band, and I was good enough at it to play for the pickiest dance instructor in the business. I can build an oven from a pile of bricks and some mud, and bake bread in it.

I can build rapport and empathy with complete strangers, have a nice conversation, and sell them more of my company’s products, and then I can do that again with another stranger 30 times a day.

I can take wool off a sheep’s back and turn it into yarn for knitting or weaving or what have you. I can knit, crochet, tat, bobbin-weave, inkle-weave, tablet-weave, and lucet. I can make my own clothing.

I can write technical documentation that even an idiot can follow. I can plan a project and carry it to completion on time and on budget. I can keep track of the total in the shopping cart in my head. I can pack more stuff in the truck or car than you’d ever think possible.

In Lord of the Rings Online I am the best hunter in the fucking game. I’m a damned good loremaster, guardian, and minstrel, too. I’ve killed almost every boss in the game. I know where everything is, and what everything does. And I read the release notes, so I know this for things that haven’t happened yet.

Anything I can’t do is because I haven’t gotten around to learning it yet.

As a person I am honest, real, and unapologetic for being that way. I am who I am, and I’ll tell it like it is. Usually with some semblance of tact, but beyond that, you won’t get candy coating or qualifying. I like that about me, and I have never wanted to compromise that part of my character, or stifle my true feelings about something.

I used to feel “guilty” for speaking my mind – like, “How dare I?!” I used to agonize about whether or not I should have said what I said. And you know what? Through the years, I came to realize people actually LIKE that about me, and seek me out because they know they’re going to get an honest conversation out of me.

It’s refreshing to be real in a world full of phonies; it feels damn good. Those who call me a friend, like me the way I am. They’re awesome, too.

I am generally a positive person, I smile a lot, and I don’t easily let things get to me. Crappy things do happen in my life, but oh well. I just deal, smile, keep an eye out for the proverbial silver lining and keep going.

In my professional life, I work with integrity, and I genuinely give a crap about every single client I meet. I give those clients respect and listen to them – and they can tell that I care. I have met people who do what I do for a living, who start their day hoping clients cancel. WTF. Find another way to make a living, I say. People can tell you hate what you do and that you don’t respect them. And yes, I’ve said that to someone’s face. She had nothing to say in response, and last I heard, she still shows up to that same job.

And that’s another thing – in a world where so many people settle in a life or career in which they’re not satisfied and find no joy or fulfillment, I constantly seek to find satisfaction, joy and fulfillment. If something is interesting to me, if it lights my fire, if it nudges me to learn more about something… I go for it.

I work very hard to continue learning and evolving, because hey, learning doesn’t stop after you get your degree. In my case, two of them. 10 years apart. In completely different fields. Oh, and I’m working on another one, in yet another unrelated field – just because I’m interested. My parents call it instability. I call it living, (rather than just existing). So, I know a lot about a lot of different things. It makes me pretty damn good at trivia games.

I’m Ivonne Fucking Ward and I rock at living an authentic and full life, no apologies.

I am Tes-fucking-ria and in summary: I am fucking smart. Doesn’t make me perfect, but I’m smart. I’m also strong and and a survivor. I’ve had all kinds of crap hurled at me, and you know what I did? Got my British ass through university anyway and got a 2:1 BSc (HONS) Psychology. A 2:1, despite all the shit. I’m thinking about going back to school to study something else because I LOVE to learn. I’m good at being loud and opinionated, but I can also be good at being patient. I’m good at educating people and I specialise in people with special educational needs and I rock with them.

I’m learning to sing from a friend who’s a professional singer because I’ve always loved to sing and I’m sick of being told I’m no good at it. I can be good at it and I will be!

You know what else? I’m really fucking good in bed. I’m also really loud in bed, but that’s mostly just funny.

I’m Shi-fucking-ny and I am fucking amazing. I can do anything I put my mind to.

I can fix everything in/on a house but the roof and I can make and great meal for you while I am there. I am a god damn genius, and frankly I don’t care if my written grammar sucks because if I can talk to you IRL you will understand me perfectly.
I can pick up things so quickly that by the time I finished my internship at a law firm my boss was asking me for advice on his case. I am the best friend you could ask for and I’d be there for you even if you didn’t ask.

I have a singing voice that I could win a Grammy with. I have a range that most singers can only dream of and I have an understanding of music that can take me there. I used to think my voice wasn’t that great because my middle school choir teacher told me I did not have any talent that that I should try drama instead. My friends kept telling me differently but I did not fully believe them until one night when I was guest singing at a friends gig. I made a loud bar go silent and had cheers for an encore when I went to get off the stage. One man even begged me to repeat the performance of one song because it was the most beautiful thing he has ever heard.

I am a bad ass geek and I rock at LARPing. I am going to try storytelling at a LARP soon and I think I will be good at that too.

I have eyes that don’t look human and I think they rock. And yes, I have finally accepted what I have been told for years, my boobs are perfect and they do own the world.

I am a survivor, the best lover (according to more than a few) and I have mad shopping skills. No one can find great fashions for cheap as quickly as I can.

I am Shi-fucking-ny!

P.S. This was so much harder to write than it should have been. I guess I need to remind myself more often that I should only talk to myself the way I would talk to the people I love. I constantly tell them that they are amazing and why. I wouldn’t lessen their accomplishments and I sure as hell would not stand by and let them do that to themselves.

I’m 28 and haven’t finished my B.A. yet, I have thousands of dollars of debt, there’s laundry all over my floor, I’m fat, I’m single, I work as “just” a waitress, and I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. But anyone who has a problem with that can kiss my flabby ass–because I’m sarcastic and hilarious, I write four blogs as well as constantly-in-progress novels, I make delicious baked goods, people call me for advice, I’m smart, I know a lot of random stuff about a lot of things, I’m tattooed, I’ve done karaoke, I’ve visited other countries, I’ve been to NYC by myself, I DO have a different book every time you see me. I’m P-fucking-G, world, and I’m happy

I’m Elsafuckingjeni and you know what? I am REALLY FUCKING GOOD at math, and I am really fucking good at tutoring, and when I get to actually teach math I will be super-awesome at that too.

I am also really good at playing the harp, and at learning languages, but I don’t get to put those to use as often. (I miss the harp. I live in a tiny apartment and the harp is very large, so it still stays at my parent’s house.)

I am Cassandra Fucking Says, and I’m halfway to achieving my life goals. I set out to be a writer, and after a couple of years of freelancing, I got an editorial position, which I’m really proud of. And I deserved it. Next – finish the novel, get it published.

My superpower is being the most tenacious bitch you’ve ever met when it comes to feminism and dealing with the What About The Menz crowd. It’s impossible to shame, embarrass, or intimidate me into shutting up no matter how many times the dudebros insult my looks, my intelligence, or my sexuality. (Well, they think calling me a lesbian is an insult. It is not.) I have pulled a man a foot taller than me off a drunk woman he was about to assault at a party. I do not scare easily. I do not care if the dudebros think I am a bitch. If you are sexist dude who’s used to being able to embarrass or intimidate women into not talking about all that icky awkward sexism stuff, I am your worst fucking nightmare.

Oh, also, as far as I know I’m the only mainstream American music journalist actively focusing on making sure that the many Japanese bands currently making a concerted effort to break into the American music market get covered in a way that’s appropriate, respectful, and treats them like serious bands, not like novelty acts. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull that off, it’s an uphill battle and I have to fight my editors on it every time, but it’s worth doing and I’m happy that I kept going and didn’t give up at the first sign of resistance.

I’m also trying my best to sneak feminism , anti-racism, and fat acceptance into everything I do, because both journalism and the music industry sure could use a lot more of both. A lot of people will tell you when you’re going into journalism not to be too direct about taking any sort of political stance because it will hurt your career. Fuck those people. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing in a way that you can be proud of.

I’m Paintmonkey, and I am a painter….an award winning painter, steadily achieving all the things I imagined as a child, and more.

Great Post – you are right, why should we all squirm about our skills just to make other people comfortable? The following quote below by Nelson Mandela blew my socks off the first time I read it.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I am Miss fucking Cellophane and I just finished one hell of a senior thesis today. I came to my own conclusions in my own voice, and I said it better than some of my secondary sources were able to. I’m a kickass writer in general, and I’ve been nominated for awards for my research papers twice. Next week I’ll be reading the poetry I got published in my school’s literary magazine. I’m also one of the managing editors of said magazine and president of the club that runs it.
I keep friends like nobody’s business, I’m funny as hell, and I can remember minute details for years.

I’m Private Fucking Jane and contrary to my rather fluffy internet appearance, IRL I’m one kick-ass UNIX sysadmin. Yes folks, I’m a woman working in the one of the most technical sectors of IT, and I’ve forgotten more about how computers work than most people around me will ever know. I also happen to be a first-class problem manager, a skill that sadly goes mostly unacknowledged because it would involve (the horror!) men having to listen to me talking about technical stuff…:-(

I love Sady fucking Doyle and I love you, Kate fucking Harding, and the rest of the Shapely fucking Prose team.

As for me, I’m Naamah fucking Darling, obviously.

I have had drill sergeants compliment me in hushed tones over my skill with profanity.

I am a damn good, DAMN good, tabletop roleplayer, which as anyone who has actually tried to do it well will tell you is not as easy as it sounds. And I am completely unshamed of the dorkiness of that. It’s actually a thing I am way proud of.

I write very well, both fiction and ranty journal things, and when I take something down on my journal, whether that is bullshit myths about mentalillness and suicide, and irresponsible women, it is awesome.

I’m Wind fucking Sparrow, and I’m good at what I do. I’m a caregiver for developmentally disabled adults. I fucking get paid to be silly. Yeah, that’s right. I’m silly. I’m good at that. I silly people right out of their violent behaviors, or their anxiety attacks, or their screaming fits. That’s how goddamn silly I am.

I’ve fucking killed a scorpion with my bare hands. I’ve fallen off the face of a cliff and walked home. I’ve ridden my bicycle 11 miles to work every day for a year in Arizona. I’ve shoveled snow in Minnesota. I can fucking pill a cat. Yeah, baby, that’s how good I am.

I can fucking take a dietician’s instructions and turn it into food that tastes damn good. I can make spagetti sauce starting with walking out into the garden to pick tomatoes. I can

The day my daddy died I promised myself I would never live in fear of any man again, and I have kept that promise.

I’m Eleventy-fucking-one and AFK I’ve never met anyone more intelligent than I (general intelligence – I know that there are many ways to be “smart”). I have honestly spent way too many years being sort of ashamed of that.

@Windsparrow ” I fucking get paid to be silly”…Oh, I adore you for that. Fantastic!

@Eleventyone – Thanks for that. I first read it in a book years ago and was floored by it and have always loved it, so I’m glad I know who originally said it. It’s a fabulous awe inspiring paragraph. You have proved your fact remembering Mojo is on fire!

I so fucking needed this. I literally woke up from a dream about how I fear that I’m not competant/capable and was laying in bed trying to convince myself that, yes, I in fact, AM a competant, capable person before I got up and saw this post.

I am without-fucking-scene and I am a fucking bad ass. I’m the most fashionable and bold of anyone I know IRL, and people think that I’m damn fine. And yes, I can dance like no one’s business and take pride in having been told recently, “Have you seen yourself dance? It’s anything but respectable.” I’m a fucking brilliant scholar, writer, teacher, activist doing groundbreaking work that will fucking shake the shit out of people–and I’m not afraid to shake the shit out of people, especially people who need be shook (and that’s most people). I’ve gotten so many compliments in the last six months, which have really forced me to take a look at my awesomeness (and my potential further awesomeness). I can break a mother fuckin argument DOWN. Yes, I have an answer for fucking everything, because I’m goddamn brilliant and I know my shit. I’m one of the most caring, kind, considerate people you will ever meet, but I will call you on your shit when shit needs called. And I will own my shit when called on, even if it takes me a second–because I’m more self-aware and self-reflexive than most people will ever be in their lives. I have a real talent in giving advice to my friends and making them feel good about themselves. I am vibrant and audacious and clever, ridiculous and hilarious. And I am already one of those people who people want to know and want to know NOW so they can say, later, “I know withoutscene when…”

I am Galactic fucking Teabag (because I have no idea how to work that into the middle of just “Alex”, and I’m between surnames at the moment) and I’m a writer. I’m not published yet, but I’m working damn hard to be. I’ve nearly finished the first draft of the first novel, for starters.

I’m good with words. Scratch that, I’m *amazing* with words. I know how to articulate my thoughts well, and since I’m also pretty good at reading people I can articulate what other people are trying to say as well, even if they can’t themselves.

I’m a good listener too, and a really loyal friend.

I’m ridiculously intelligent, and have a stupid amount of qualifications for someone who’s only 23 – a BA, two separate MAs, and I’m now working on a PhD – in feminism and speculative fiction, no less.

I’m pretty good at sewing and making things like LARP costume, and I love doing it as well.

And I make an awesome fish pie.

I am Galactic Fucking Teabag – and right now I don’t understand why most of the time I feel I have nothing much to be proud of.

I can take sticks and string and knit clothing, fer doG’s sake! Can also crochet, sew, locker hook, and otherwise create shit!

Most of all, I am still here, dammit! After a lifetime of abuse of all kinds, after being told umpteen times, you won’t survive, you shouldn’t survive, or at the very least the best you can hope for is a life of zombied pain—THEY WERE WRONG, I am still here, and still learning, still growing, sometimes still in pain, but still chugging along. I AM FUCKING AWESOME!

I am Deborah fucking Lipp. I have written five books. And they’re really good books. They’re well-written. I can turn out a good essay in 25 minutes and the first draft is readable. My editors love me because my manuscripts are in very publishable shape. In fact, they break in new junior editors on me because I’m so easy to work with. Also, I’m not even a prima donna (according to the editors) about getting my writing polished and corrected. If my blog needs a post I can whip out something publishable while the coffee is brewing. I. Am. That. Good.

I am also a high priestess of Wicca and I can cast a fucking circle that will make your head spin. In a good way. I have been teaching the Craft for 24 years and yeah, I know what I’m doing. And I love it.

Also, I love my sexuality. I think my skills in the bedroom are without parallel, and I have affidavits to that effect.

I am Sarah Explitive-Infix LastName and I know stuff. I retain random information like a steel trap and if I don’t happen to know something, I will find it out for you. Given sufficient time, an internet connection, and a reasonably good library, if it exists, I will tell you where a resource is and give you at least a good lead on how to get it into your hands. If it doesn’t exist, I will find you a T schedule and contact information for the relevant elite Boston/Cambridge university so that you can find people to convince to make the information exist. ;-)

I also make yarn. I can make everything from thread to light rope (and for that matter could probably make actual rope given the right equipment; I’ve just never really wanted to), out of wool, silk, linen, cotton, or synthetics. I can make strange sparkly art yarn or completely practical three-ply sock yarn. I make and wear my own tzitzit, which required slogging through Talmudic citations since the intersection of “geeky observant Jew” and “handspinner” is small enough that at this point my blog posts on the subject are the only layperson’s guide I know of.

And my magic superpower is knowing what time it is. I have this ability to say “it’s X” and usually be within 5 minutes of real time.

Laura you and I share a super power! Sometimes it will actually creep me out that I’m so sure of what time it is and am usually within a few minutes of correct. And I never wear a watch.

Also, I am April Fucking D. I have my own blog that I’ve been writing at for more than a year and I’m pretty funny, articulate and expressive. I’m also really good at writing papers and just finished a 79 page area study on libraries in Poland for my Masters Degree (in a class where others were just yesterday bemoaning how they think their work will be “done” at 13 pages). I am a really good belly dancer who always dances with a smile; and a passion-filled trumpet player.

And I am also going to add that I am part of a group of fucking amazing commentors at Shapely Prose who, I must say, Rock Ass!

This is a good thing, and I applaud that kind of self-empowerment and self-esteem in women. However… next time some transmisogynist decides that a trans woman finding this kind of self-esteem and empowerment is expending “male energy” or “taking up space” or “grabbing the microphone” or any of the other marginalizing bullshit I’ve seen applied to trans women over the years you’d all better speak the fuck up. Empowerment is meaningless privileged wanking if only some are allowed access to it.

And, yeah, I’m gudbuy t’fucking jane, A. fucking Hamilton, and a few other names with fuck in them. You probably don’t know who I am, because your world probably doesn’t include trans women beyond a monolithic idea of what we are. If you’ve read me it’s probably only because a cis person linked to me elsewhere, or you commented on my blog to tell my why something wasn’t transphobia.

There is a part of me that is a toughass, from years of growing up in a tough town and getting the shit kicked out of me and from having a constant cultural assault of hatred and mockery for me and those like me. I’ve watched trans women I never knew die on the news and those I did know die from their own hand. I have seen those who otherwise called themselves my friend or ally betray their bigotry again and again.

Despite this, though, despite all the shit I’ve had to endure from this cissupremacist world, the things most important to me are kindness, compassion, community, and solidarity. That’s what makes me fucking awesome. The fact I have the patience to engage cis culture for dialogue about transphobia is what makes me a fucking saint.

(p.s. before anyone reads this as anti-Kate or anti-Sady, and really, you’d be amazed how a trans woman expressing any opinion becomes read as an angry opinion, I think they’re both fucking fantastic.)

Well, in light of this screen name it’s a little weird, but whatever. I’m fucking awesome, even if I’m not rosemary. Why? Three years from now, I’m going to be a doctor. I am a published scientific author, I am bilingual, and I ride my bike faster than most city cars drive. I’m the fucking best!

I am very good at spinning yarn and knitting, and I design, too. I can make up sock patterns as I go along. I taught myself to spin, then to knit, when I quit smoking four years ago. I haven’t had a cigarette in over four years after smoking for 33 years, up to 2 packs a day. That’s the single most badass thing I’ve ever done.

I’m excellent at casework and case analysis. Despite having no formal education beyond high school, I work in a professional field surrounded by people with master’s degrees and nobody ever knows unless I tell them. I’m a genius. I’m one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet.

I can sing. I do fine renditions of jazz standards in particular, though I can go operatic to rock to folk to blues. I play a mean flute. I have perfect pitch and perfect relative pitch. I can harmonize with anything.

I’m good at being alive and surviving, too. An abusive ex, mounds of family drama, many bad relationships including relationships with myself, medical drama including a life- and limb- and mobility- threatening incident a bit over two years ago and I’m still here, walking, talking, living, surviving, and thriving.

I’m also really, really funny, quick witted in a situational way. Nothing that really translates well to being written down but I seriously crack people up all the time.

My cooking is amazing. I’m self-taught at that too. I can teach myself anything.

I’m so badass that the “f-ing” in my name is implied. It doesn’t have to be written out. :)

Oh, and lest I forget: I am also fucking cute. In actions, in fat adorable appearance, in words. And I have made a grown man cry out “Where did you learn to do that”?! in ecstasy. Fuck yeah. April Fucking D. Don’t let the “cute” fool you on the “sexy”.

I am Kaethe and I am the best reader in the world. I can remember most of the books I’ve read in my life, and I can recommend one that you will love. I keep my family and friends supplied with books and suggestions. Someday I will return to being a book pusher, but for now I’m curing cancer.

I am Kat, and my German is so fucking good that I have difficulty convincing people (Germans!) that it’s not my native language. I also didn’t start learning it until high school, which makes my mastry of the language all the more impressive. Furthermore, I am a wealth of knowledge about the world and, during the Bush years, singlehandedly succeeded in making a number of Europeans question – even wholeheartedly renounce – their prejudices about Americans.

You guys are so fucking badass, I am literally beaming right now after reading all of our awesome accomplishments! DAMN we’re cool!

I’m Kate Fucking [Redacted] and I raised over $1 million last year in my first year as a grantwriter!* AND bought my own home. AND won an award for community service (that I was almost too embarrassed to accept!)

Wow, I feel weird now.

**(For anyone who gets grants from, say, the NIH and thinks $1 million is a piddling number, let me note that NONE of it came from the gov’t.)

I am a Full Fucking Professor. In a mostlymale hardscience topic. In a research university. I have been plenary speaker at two national conferences in my research field, in two different nations. I have been a member of the Institute of Advanced Study in Princeton for a term, and repeatedly of similar-level institutes in my specific field. I have led 7 students to their PhD, and am currently advising 3. I speak fluently four languages and can read two more.
Hidden special skill: I breastfed my three children because I fucking enjoyed it (the best reason for breastfeeding I know – added to the fact that I got enough leave of absence to have a minimal relationship with my breastpump). I had so much milk that I breastfed twins with no formula added, and enjoyed every minute of it. In a different era, I might have made a living as a wet nurse.

I am Erin Fucking Stratos, and this is my first ever comment on the interwebs under my real name. And I can comment on blogs, and blog myself (http://erinstratos.wordpress.com/), under my real name because dammit I am proud of myself.

I’m a good writer, a great thinker, a great fucking student. I achieve most things I set out to do because I have an extraordinary level of determination, and I am dedicated to being excellent. And because I’m pretty damn smart. I’m going to be a writer (hell – I AM a writer! just had one of my poems published for the first time!), and people are going to know my name, because that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself. And I am totally, emphatically, worth it.

I just, in fact, wrote my second blog post yesterday about the little voice inside my head that tells me I suck. And how that voice is wrong, wrong, wrong. And then I come here, and you’re all “you rock! let me count the ways!” and it couldn’t be more timely.

@paintmonkey: My mom printed and framed that quote for me when I graduated with my associates degree after many, many years of academic flailing (I have since ceased flailing and started rocking). Every time I read it, I remember why I need to be awesome-out-loud. I WILL SHINE, DAMMIT, AND YOU WILL BE INSPIRED.

Oh and I forgot to mention (because it wasn’t about me and my aweseomeness, LOL) that this may be the best thread ever. Have been in a pissy mood FOREVER and I really think this saved at least my weekend, and possibly my whole year. LOVE IT.

I’m a damned good librarian, I can make up alternate lyrics to any song on the spot, and I write entertaining non-fiction, great fiction, and superb fanfic. My imagination could replace Hoover Dam as a power source—hook it up.

I can teach a three-year old to sing “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night and teach a seven-year old not to sing the full version in church.

I’m a professional-grade reader. No less than seven other writers of various genres have asked me to beta or outright edit their work. Three of these people now have agents and/or books out or coming out–I’m in the acknowledgements or dedications of all of them.

Also, I just realized there is another lowercase-e erin that comments here, and I am not her… just thought I’d mention it so she can have a chance to shine on her own! Also, I am just getting the hang of wordpress, and I meant to have my full name as my display name, but that didn’t happen. But that’s okay, cause I’m a fast fucking learner and will figure it out soon. Woo!

I am atiton. I’m VERY, VERY good at taking care of myself. I know what I want. I succeed in achieving it. I lie in wait for opportunities…and then I pounce on them. Big ones, small ones, it does not matter. I do not let other people stand in my way. Often I just show them how taking care of me is what they want to do too.

I put myself through college on a combination of scholarships, student loans, starvation, and sheer stubbornness. I carried a full course load and graduated cum laude despite juggling four work study jobs and rehearsal schedules for two choirs and a theatre production at any given time. I was awarded the Humanities Graduate of the Year for 2001, and I have a plaque to prove it! After that I took an office job in an industry I knew absolutely nothing about and in the seven years since have learned so much and become so integral to the operations of the business that the boss repurposed a meeting room so I could have my own office. I am Fan-fucking-tine, and I am fucking awesome.

I’m twostate fucking system and I named myself after a physics problem because I am good at physics. I’m so good that I not only won the fourth-year tuition prize at my undergraduate institution, I also won the graduation prize AND the experimentalist grad student prize at my current institution. I’m the only grad student I know working on two totally unrelated experiments and making contributions to both. I’ve given talks at several conferences and been told that my talks were clear, informative, and concise. (And anyone who thinks that’s a small accomplishment has never been to a physics conference!)

And I did/do this all while coping with and undergoing transition and maintaining a reasonably social life.

I also can bake a damn good loaf of bread/cake/scone/brownie/cookie, ring two kinds of bells, fix most things on my bicycle, design and knit a beautiful sweater/pair of mittens/scarf/pair of socks, and travel with joy and confidence.

lemonadeandlemoncake, catching up late to the thread: My first novel is coming out in June. “A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend.” (What the hey — it’s a thread for declaring my own awesomeness, right?)

I am Shemena Fucking Campbell and I am a badass. I do almost everything I set my mind to well (and if I can’t do it well, I do it anyway, which is the core of my badassedness). I write, I sing, I play the piano, I cook, I bake, and people give me genuine complements for all of those things. I’ve mentored underserved people into some of the best medical schools, public health schools and pharmacy schools in the country. Speaking of medical school, I *am* in medical school, even though I didn’t finish high school, even though I was homeless for a while, even though I have a learning disability, even though I was taking care of my mentally ill mom all the way through undergrad and then later, my kid – even though it took me 15 YEARS from the first time I walked onto a community college campus to walk onto the medical school campus. *I* fucking did that. I gave birth to two beautiful, bright, sensitive boys who are growing up aware, polite, genuine and kind, in part because I am their mother. I am scathingly funny, appropriately uncompromising, courageous like a superhero, a searing hot intellect, a 41 year old who still gets carded and a damn good driver. I am Shemena Fucking Campbell. I own this shit.

Oh, and also – I’m in medical school with a full ride scholarship. For being a righteous human being. That’s how badass I am. (And thanks for giving me some space to write that. I’ve got tears swimming in my eyes, that’s how good this is.)

I am in genuine awe at the posters on this site, this thread has made my day, hell my month. I am not a professor or a kick ass academic but I am working on my Bachelors in Biology at the age of 38 after putting it off for years, and I am doing great. I am a good, kind, intelligent person and I am finally learning that it is enough to just be me.

And I raised an Aspie kid, almost by myself, and went toe-to-toe with neurologists and school administrators and somehow NEVER KILLED THE KID even though OCD & ADHD aren’t a fun combination. That makes me a special kind of goddess.

Hi. I am Iona Fucking Lastname, and I just got admitted to a top-three law school and that is awesome. I will be qualified in two jurisdictions by the time I’m 25. And I don’t care that you think lawyers are evil, and that law reform isn’t sexy, because I am going to change the fucking world.

De-lurking to say, I am Foul Fucking Owl, and I can draw like a motherfucker. Three people I know and two people I don’t have my artwork permanently embedded with ink in their skin – if that is not a vote of confidence, I don’t know what is. For every random man on the subway who felt entitled to comment on my sketchbook and say “You draw real well for a girl,” for every self-important dude in my class who feels entitled to interrupting my feedback time with my teacher, for every coded “Isn’t art a really COMPETITIVE [read: male-owned, male-driven, male-dominated] field?,” I say “FUCK YOU.” Yes, there are many amazing male illustrators getting lots of work right now. There are also multitudes of lady illustrators kicking a dozen times dozen kinds of ass, and I plan on being among them one day soon.

I’m Rachel-fucking-M. and I’m a damn good writer. I’m a jeweler, a designer, a painter and a cook.and I’m damn smart too, and I have the ability to quickly grasp even difficult theoretical concepts. I can line-edit a document with the best of them, and I can read a 200,000 word novel in less than 36 fucking hours. I am also discovering my courage and strength as a woman and a person. I’m Rachel-fucking-M.and I, too, am awesome.

I’m Alexandra Fucking Erin, I’m one of the most successful crowdfunded authors on the internet, I am smart and I am witty and I have a lovely smile and I have absolutely no reason to be scared out of my mind about the prospect of appearing in public and reading some of my works tonight at the Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center.

The Shapelings are Fucking Awesome. (Not, of course, that there was any doubt about that before this thread, just y’know, confirming.)

I’m Shinobi the fucking Fatistician. I am a ninja with the statistics, I will analyze your data in ways you never even imagined. (See also, sex.)

I’m fucking funny, and charming. I also have a very low bullshit tolerence and am very good at cutting through crap. (This service I offer for free to my friends.)

I read really fucking fast. We’re talking at least 100 pages an hour. And I read about a million political blogs and therefore know more about what is going on in politics on a given day than 95% of the us population.

I have a gorgeous contralto voice.

(It was really hard to write these things without qualifying them. I also love parentheticals.)

I’m still rowmy-fucking-boat, and I am growing tomatoes for the very first time this year — from seed! — cause I’m awesome like that. And I repair and refinish furniture I find in the garbage, meaning that my apartment is full of lovely antiques I didn’t pay for! When I was on college, I won $500 for an essay on bed translations of Juvenal’s sixth satire — and I’d never even studied Latin!

I’m Megan fucking Baptista, and I’m one hell of a poet! Three of my poems are forthcoming in Calyx magazine in the next year.

I’m also a hardworking mothafucker. I put a lot of myself into my projects, and I expect the same from other people. I’m currently editing a journal, teaching, and designing posters, signs, and other random media for my graduate program. I always take a ton of units every semester because I love to learn, and I’m good at that as well.

I’m a self-taught and damn good knitter and spinner and crocheter and seamster.

I enthousiastically agree that this is the most awesome thread ever. I think we all need this. Once a week :-).
I’m particularly impressed by any skills involving one or more of the following: 1) writing 2) music 3) cooking 4) art 5) care/social 6) “hand” skills (sewing, mechanics, gardening…). In other words, skills that make you useful to your fellow human beings.
I did know Kate Harding was awesome already, but I’m impressed by how incredibly awesome her readers are!

I thought maybe I should write a post about that, about how qualifying anything that might sound even vaguely self-esteemy is such an ingrained habit for so many women, we not only do it to ourselves, we police our friends when they don’t.

And this is why I don’t have many female friends, because I broke myself of this habit ten years ago and now I’m known as a cocky bitch.

I am Other fucking Becky, and I am brilliant. I can read a book in a day (and not a day off, a normal day) and understand and retain everything in it. I can do math in my head, and I kick ass at cribbage. I can fix anything from leaky plumbing to CD players, and I have a green thumb like nobody’s business.

And more than anything else, I can teach. I can teach integral calculus to art students, English literature to foreign-born engineers, and molecular biology to econ majors, and I’m damn good at it.

Wow, it’s amazing how hard it is to make a declarative statement regarding the stuff you can actually do.

I’m a writer, and a damn good one. I pride myself on my ability to tell a story in an interesting, entertaining way, whether it’s verbally or by writing it down. I can sing better than I ever thought I could growing up, and it’s largely because I spent many years both practicing and singing for fun. I’m an artist, and I have a genuine intuitive ability to read people- not just by what they say, but their body language, the things that are communicated without being put into words. I’ve backed several people out of lies, even just talking to them through instant-messengers.

As a long-term reader and first-time commenter, let me take this opportunity to say hello everyone! Thanks for writing this Kate; this idea that women are criticised for supposed narcissism more than men are is something that’s been bothering me a lot recently. I find it hard to acknowledge any of my achievements, because they’re so everyday and mundane. But never mind, here goes:

I’m a damn good songwriter, all things considered.
I’m a decent pianist and singer, considering I’m self-taught.
I’m a good daughter, and a great friend.
I’m the first person in my entire extended family who has attended university, and even though I’m not academically exceptional, I’m always seeking to better myself and learn more about the world.
I am a kind and caring person. We live in a world filled with awful, hateful people, so even though I am one of millions of philanthropists, I still think that every good person makes a difference, including me. And I guess that makes me pretty special. :)

I am Button Fucking Gwinnett and I can MAKE SHIT HAPPEN. I show up alone in random horrible places and I use my resourcefulness, wits, and ability to make friends with rebels/police commissioners/whoever happens to be in charge, and I MAKE SHIT HAPPEN.* Oh yeah, and I’m 25, have a masters (with honors!) from the best school in my field, and am miles better at this than my dumbass drunken boss, with his 50 years of experience.

I’m a really good teacher–one who works really hard, and doesn’t embarrass kids when they ask questions, but has a talent for finding a compassionate way to show them how often they’re *asking the wrong ones.* I can do this with teachers, too. I pick amazing friends–I’ll find the gems in any context, and we will most likely be friends for the rest of our lives. I’m voracious reader and learner, which is a quality I love in others and am proud to have myself. I can rock outfits that make people say “I would totally wear that if I thought I could get away with it” or “I would wear that–if I were someone else.” I can dance, and sing, and make you laugh your ass off. I’m a kick-ass aunt, daughter, and girlfriend, and will help you see the good qualities in yourself, too. I’m Alicia Fucking Maud, and I wept when I read about you other awesome Shapelings. I’m proud to be one of you, and I deserve to be, too!

I’m loving reading everyone’s brazen and entirely justified self-praise. You’re all so amazing that I’d be sick with jealousy if I weren’t so amazing too.

I’m Miss fucking Prism. I’m a fucking good scientist. I’ve a lot of good ideas and I can quickly see elegant ways to test them. Also, I can write anything from textbooks to triolets. Those are what I’d call my talents. But I can get reasonably good at most things if I try, because I’m cocky enough to try, and stubborn enough to try hard even if I initially suck.

(Other Becky, I would love a teaching superpower like yours! I currently suck at teaching, but see above.)

I’m A-fucking-J and I just got accepted to a PhD program with four years of funding because I’m awesome at what I do.

Everyone is so right! It’s hard to just declare. I’ve been telling every person, that “oh it’s not such a big deal, because really the funding just fell to me when other acceptees decided to go to other schools, blah, blah, blah, humblecakes”, but it is a big deal. I’m kind of a big deal. ;-)

I am late to this party, but chiming in because this thread could not have come at a more critical time. I posted the whining-est post yesterday, and need to put that shit behind me.

Firstly, though – fuckin’ A to all the commenters! We rule!

Now for the hard part… I am Miss Fucking Minx. I am a kickass scholar. I wrote my comp exams 8 months pregnant, in the middle of a power outage, and defended them “with distinction” two weeks later. I have presented work at international conferences and published in journals.

I’m Lisa Fucking G and I’m a good teacher and a great friend. I speak Spanish like nobody’s business, my job is to help undocumented immigrants go to college, I cook, and knit and I’m good at problem solving. I walked 500 miles in 5 weeks, I rock climb, and I play ultimate frisbee. I write for a sweet body positivity/feminist blog. And I went to one of the best colleges in the US.

Thanks Kate for giving us the chance to say how awesome we all are! I’m sick of talking myself down so I don’t sound braggy.

In the art world, it’s expected for an artist to explain their work at tedious length. I’ve always felt that if the work isn’t good enough on its own, a mass of tangled pseudointellectual verbiage won’t improve it, and if it is good enough, it doesn’t need explanation.

Then again, that’s a world where lack of self-promotion is rarely a problem. More the opposite, really. Though labels like “genius” seem to be reserved for men.

I remember winning a competition back in art school, completely unexpectedly as I had only entered a piece I thought of as second-rate (because I hadn’t finished the big project that I had wanted to enter) and when I won, my classmates went a bit strange. Evil glares, etc. and scoffing about “originality”, which was the reason my work had been chosen. Like originality is some kind of evil thing.

I’d write it all off as sour grapes, except it really seemed they were more open in their hostility because I am female. Being female makes you a target. The instinct is to protect oneself by hiding.

How do I deal with it? I don’t like to be that obnoxious braggart who bores everyone, but neither do I want to hide my light behind a bushel. For me, the emotionally distant, businesslike approach works well. I do my job, with reasonable skill, and I judge my work as “effective” or “ineffective” rather than good or bad. Which helps me to view myself as someone who sometimes does her work well, other times not so well, but avoids labels of good or bad.

I am Lamp-fucking-Devil, and I speak damned good French. I’ve served as group translator during a game con that was held in Quebec. I get complimented on my accent (or lack therof). I am in demand in the job market ’round these parts because I’m certifiably bilingual (I gots certificates and grades and things!) and it’s NEEDED here.

I am The Goddamned Lampdevil, and I can format a document liek wut. Seriously. You wouldn’t think it would be a big deal to be able to lay out information in an eye-pleasing manner, nor to write a memo or report that clearly and thoroughly informs a person about something… but dude, it’s a big deal. I do the escalations at work. I compile problem reports. I create faxed documents so succinct and clear that I reduce sales reps to thankful tears. PEOPLE CAN UNDERSTAND ME. This is a badass achievement, indeed. There’s a lot of incomprehensible shit out there, and I do my part to not contribute to it.

I am LAMPDEVIL, DAMNIT, and I’m a fucking fantastic cook. My banana bread makes people want to kiss me. My taco-bite-pinwheel-tortilla… things make people jump up and down with gleeful anticipation. Last night I made a meatloaf with BACON ON IT, and it was FANTASTIC.

I am The One And Only Lampdevil, and I’m funny as hell. I’ll serve you that meatloaf (with garlic smashed potatoes and fresh green beans) and then make you snort it out your nose from laughing so hard. People say I oughta do standup. I think I WILL, one of these days.

(Holy crap, this is fun! We are, collectively, a face-meltingly awesome buncha people here!)

When I was in college, a good friend and I started the ‘We are fucking awesome’ club for basically exactly these reasons–each of us got sick of the other putting herself down and deflecting praise, so we enacted a ban on all such activities. Three years later, it’s still going strong :)

Rules of the club are simple:

1. We are fucking awesome.

2. When people tell us how fucking awesome we are, we will not argue with them. We will say ‘thank you, I quite agree.’

3. If anyone has a problem with any of the above, they can feel perfectly free not to hang out with us.

It was astonishingly therapeutic, I can tell you that. And it makes a pretty good people-filter. It’s amazing how upset some people get when a woman takes a compliment even if they’re not the one giving it.

Ironically, I opened this thread last night while in the middle of an I-can’t-do-anything meltdown. I almost cried. I am calmer now, so here goes:

I am Lucy Fucking Too. I can research, synthesize and analyze information extremely quickly. I can spot holes in arguments on the fly and in my sleep. I am insightful. I tune into things about people that evey they don’t know or haven’t admitted. I learn and understand new things very quickly.

I am a good musician. I have a great ear, I can improvise great sounding harmonies and counter-melodies on the fly, and I know how to balance out a group to make it sound fantastic.

It’s amazing how upset some people get when a woman takes a compliment even if they’re not the one giving it.

Totally. It’s like they want credit for giving you this unique and precious gift, but you’re like, “Yeah, thanks, I already have one.” HOW RUDE OF YOU NOT TO DISSOLVE IN A PUDDLE OF GRATITUDE BECAUSE I ACKNOWLEDGED THE OBVIOUS.

I am a professional writer. I have a way with obscure words that would make Tim Gunn envious. In over forty years of baking, I have never once made a bad pie crust – or even a mediocre one. I am a ninja in the kitchen. I sing like Grace Slick, and I finally have the guts to do it in public. In fact, the neighborhood coffee house has just announced that they’re going to start doing open mics next month, and I intend to sign up for the first one and knock everyone’s fucking socks off with my rendition of White Fucking Rabbit.

I have forgotten more about weddings than most people ever fucking learned. I can recite literally hundreds of Monty Python routines from memory, and sing all the songs from Holy Grail word perfect. I can quote chapter and verse for Star Trek, BSG, Dr. Who (both classic and new), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Red Dwarf. I do a kickass Kryton impression, and my Captain Kirk/William Shatner is funny as shit.

I make my own lace, including the eleven yards I did for my wedding gown. I can paint a room. I can find the funny side of nearly anything, and make you see it, too. I can talk intelligently to nearly anyone. I am a cat whisperer. Small children find me endlessly fascinating.

People have literally stopped me in the streets and come up to me in restaurants to tell me how utterly awesome I am. I can be invisible at will, but usually choose to be in your face, because nobody puts Baby in a fucking corner. I can hold my opinion steadfastly without disrespecting yours… unless it’s unutterably douchebaggy and based on incorrect assumptions you gathered in your frequent trips to the home planet. Or until you can prove to me that my opinion is similarly douchebaggy and extra-terrestrial in nature.

I wear hats with aplomb in a society that has lost the joy of hats. I dress fabulously for me without following any ‘what to wear’ articles or shows because I know what looks best on my body and my spirit, and I adorn myself accordingly. My taste in handbags has been praised by experts. I have coaxed other women into sartorial fabulosity, helping them see what works for their bodies and spirits, whether it’s what works on mine or not.

I am Twistie. Hear me roar. No, really, when I get singing at full throttle, you can hear me down the block. That’s what I call roaring. And I’m not afraid of it anymore.

I’m a great writer. I can write a creepy story that will scare the socks off of my horror-junkie best friend, and I almost never need to use a spell-check program because my spelling skills are just that fucking awesome.

I’m articulate.

I can draw a perfect profile portrait in under five minutes.

I can do thirty full push-ups with perfect form and win an arm-wrestling contest with my 6’3″ brother.

I’m doing my MLIS online while working a full-time job and I have a 4.0.

I’d like to throw out a super-big THANKS to Kate for this thread. I had a ton of trouble not qualifying or minimizing my own awesomeness in my post last night, but I can’t even tell you how good it felt to be able to unapologetically write positive things about myself.

I’m feeling really good about myself this morning, and I think this thread has a lot to do with that. I’m going to try to hold onto that feeling as long as I can, because it’s awesome, and it’s a complete relief from the constant stream of self-deprecation I feel obligated to spew on a daily basis.

My name is Bella and I am an absolutely-fucking-AMAZING cook, so much so that friends and family call my kitchen Bella’s Cafe, and am also pretty humorous as well. I am also brilliant at making presentations in Court, where I am as competent as fuck!

I’m new to the blog, but this is amazing. So many women owning exactly who they are, with no qualifications or demurring – just telling me how fucking amazing they are. I’m just rolling around in the glory of it all.

I am OMG Fucking LawDork, and I am a motherfucking awesome public speaker. I start talking and everyone in the room shuts up, and when I’m done, they agree with me. I stood up and created speeches from nothing in my public speaking class in college and made an A+. I got the best advocate award in every mock trial competition I did in law school – even the one where I was only at half of the final round. After years of feeling second best at everything, I pumped myself up for every round of those competitions by yelling along in my car with Charlie Daniels, I done told you once you son of a bitch, I’m the best that’s ever been! and for the first time in my life, believing it. I have stolen the mic from mediocre speakers during public comments and been remembered more for my two-minute comment than they were for their thirty-minute speech.

I am OMG Fucking LawDork, and when I talk to a group of people, they listen.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God! Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I’m Emma Fucking B, and I’m a badass programmer. I can write elegant code while expressing my femininity via my outward appearance. I whip up programs to pseudo-randomize my quilt layouts, and yes, I am aware that it’s a brute-force solution to an NP-complete problem. I’ve been a successful freelancer for almost a decade, and have a solid reputation in my city’s tech community. I actually have an aesthetic sense, a rare quality indeed in people who perform logic for a living. I speak fluent client-ese, have an excellent grasp of business processes, and dress stylishly in professional contexts even though I own a drawer full of ThinkGeek t-shirts. I originally taught myself to program after realizing an undergrad degree in French and Classics wasn’t going to pay the bills. I finished my master’s in computer science while having first a full-time-plus career, then while nursing infant twins, then with three children age 2 and under. I singlehandedly designed and coded, and now maintain and expand, the ordering and fulfillment system of a multi-million-dollar business — part of which is in a non-Latin-alphabet language I do not speak.

There’s lots of other stuff I can do, like sewing, knitting, quilting, cooking, parenting, and marriage-ing, and I think these things are important and take pride in them too. However, I’m a Computer Fucking Programmer, which very few people in this world have the natural talent to be, and I’ve achieved a lot of success as a woman in an overwhelmingly male field.

It’s amazing how upset some people get when a woman takes a compliment even if they’re not the one giving it.

This is what makes me love the lead character on the show Bones, but loathe that she’s so “unique”. She can say (paraphrasing here), “I’m quite rich and famous now, because my books sell millions” or “I’m far smarter than you, but don’t worry, I’m smarter than most people” and it always gets a laugh. Even sadly from me, sometimes, because we are taught that good girls don’t say things like that.

So, I am Cassi Fuckin’ Donahue and I am really fucking smart. Moreover, I’m fearless. I hold advanced degrees in both physics and design, achieved three decades apart, because I don’t see any reason to stop being so awesome just because some people my age start collecting social security. I wasn’t afraid to major in physics at a time when a lot of women were told to get an “Mrs degree” and I’m not afraid to try to learn something new now. I’m not afraid, because nothing, not even being really bad at something for a while, can make me doubt what I know is true… I’m really fucking smart.

I can also ride a bike for 100’s of miles at a time, lift weights with perfect form, teach people to do almost anything, even if I can’t do it myself (yeah, yeah, those that can, do… but lemme tell you, teaching is a whole ‘nother skill that an awful lot of “doers” don’t have and, folks, I’ve got mad ‘splaining skillz), I’m a great friend, a dedicated daughter, a kick-ass wife, and I make a vegan chocolate cake so good carnivores and food snobs line up for a slice. Oh and I have a fuckin’ black belt and trophies and metals to prove that I’m not just any black belt, I’m a really fucking GOOD black belt.

Did I mention that I’m Cassi Fuckin’ Donahue and I’m really fucking smart?

I am CG Fucking Girl and I kick some CG ass. I have offers up the wazoo from world renown effects and animation companies that do film and commercial work, so that my big dilemmas are which opportunity to choose. I have people after me to teach college courses as well, since they are dying to have someone with this
much knowhow and experience who can also actually TEACH, like I can. I am a great programmer, which I’m really proud of, and I have an artistic sensibility to boot. I work in glamorous NYC at some fantastic companies. And I do it all while wearing lovely outfits that express my style.

I am Hillary-fucking-Gayle. I earned a bachelor’s of science in nursing, a four-year degree, in one year. I am well on my trajectory to becoming a doctor of nursing practice with an emphasis in trauma. And this week, my plump, knowledgable, confident, capable ass RAN down the hallway to a man in severe respiratory distress, assessed his condition, and triggered the series of events that literally saved his life. I do not panic. I do not freak out. I know how to work with physicians to keep you alive and to get you back to your best health at whatever size. I get up and go to work convinced that it is my place in the universe to help you in whatever way I can. I do it because I love you, and I love you because you’re human. I am your fucking nurse, and dammit, that is BAD ASS.

I am Wolf A. fucking Woman (Slytherin), and here are the awesome things I can do.

I am awesome at World of Warcraft. I out-DPS another member of my guild who plays the same class, and has a gear score fully 500 points above mine, by over 1000 DPS. On top of that, I don’t pull threat off the tank because I know when to back off to avoid it. I can go through a Jaraxxus fight without letting one Fel Fireball through because I am the Interrupt Queen. I don’t stand in fire, I Death Grip things off the healers when necessary, and I notice when I need to run away from the group so I don’t spread some AoE disease before my raid leader tells me. You wish you had me in your raid.

I am awesome at knitting. My mom taught me to knit and purl and I taught myself everything else with only the internet to guide me. I am now making her a cobweb-weight Shetland shawl for her 60th birthday. That I designed myself.

I make the best macaroni and cheese evar. Evar. Hands down. From a recipe I invented.

Wow, sometimes the universe gives you just what you need. Thanks for the post, the comments, the Mandela/Williamson quote–they’re all really life-giving right now.

I’m Patty fucking Prof, I’m an academic, and I’ve never seen anyone better suited to my profession than I am. Being a professor involves three main activities, each of which require very different skills: teaching, research/writing, and doing administration/committee work with colleagues. Although I have met some people who are better than me at one or another of these tasks, I have never met anyone who is better at all three combined than I am.

I’m also one of the only academics I’ve met who was a high-level athlete in college, and who (it became clear, after teaching only one year of high school between finishing my PhD and taking my current job) would be as good of a high school teacher as I am a college professor.

When I was in high school, they invented awards to give to me.

I got my BA at what is generally regarded as the best school in the country, and got my PhD from a school ranked very nearly as high. My mother has tried to make me feel ashamed of that, because some of my other siblings haven’t been as successful academically, but to quote from upstream, “There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. […] And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Making people laugh is as easy as breathing for me. I have a charm rate (number of people charmed/number of people met) of about 98%.

I’m the best reader of people that I’ve ever seen, and I have incredible diplomatic skills because of it. My ability to emphathize is unsurpassed.

I can make undergrads who’d rather be at a frat party excited about goddamned Cotton Mather.

I just adopted two cats, who’ve had a hard-knock life, and who are now on easy street because they’re mine. I’m doing a good job of dealing with the infammatory ear polyp of one of them, and the other comes when I call because she likes being petted by me so much.

Daaaamn, I want to write MORE about HOW AWESOME I AM. Which is strange, because when I was faced with the prompt to go and toot my own horn, I made a scrunchy sort of face and went “eeeeeeehn”. But I picked one thing, started typing about it… then wait! There are more things I’m good at! I must write about those! And then more and more and more and…

It’s hard to get started, but it’s hard to stop once we’ve taken that step and forced ourselves to wade in our own awesomeness. We are all FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

I’m Danielle Fucking H., and this thread couldn’t have come at a better time, because I giving my first public concert in over 10 years this weekend, and I need to remind myself that I am an amazing soprano soloist, and I fucking earned that, with years and years of formal training, and many difficult months bringing my skills back after a period of neglect. But I fucking DID IT, and when I’m inevitably complimented after my performance on Sunday, I will NOT self-depricate, and I will NOT downplay my success. I will take the kudos I have earned.

I am (even though I haven’t done it in a while) a fucking awesome stage manager. I am a fucking awesome public speaker. I am currently kicking grad school’s fucking ass and I am going to be a fucking awesome DOCTOR of Physical Therapy in about a year’s time. I also make fucking awesome risotto. SO THERE. And I like to win at bar trivia and loudly proclaim how fucking right I was all along.

Cassi, I totally know what you mean about Bones – I like to think it’s a positive sign that a lot of people still love her, though! And that it’s her dry delivery that gets the laugh. :)

I want to reread this when I get home, because damn, it seriously made me cry at work (which is why I admit right now, I didn’t read all the comments.).

I am not often B-F’in-CS. It’s rare, and I really want to say something like all of you have (and damn, you are BAMFs!). The best I got is here:

I worked my ass off this year. I work in a job where I don’t feel appreciated, where I feel as though my job is meaningless, and where I feel completely unfulfilled just so I can take care of myself, my husband, and my pets. But you know what?
When I went in my performance reviews, I asked for a promotion, and I told my boss exactly what I did this year to earn it, and told him how hard I worked and how much I felt like I REALLY busted it out this year, and I told him that I (and others) think that my work warrants this promotion, and that I’m qualified, damn it. For that brief moment, I was B-F’ing-CS, and I meant it!

I am Anwen with a fucking N, and I am fucking awesome. I am raising a smart, funny, feminist, anti-ismish daughter. I can get by in at least three or four foreign languages, and can even have something approaching a proper conversation in two of them. I can knit the hell out of anything I want (hell, I knitted Cthuhlu without a fucking pattern). I can make people laugh so hard they can’t breathe. I can eat an almond croissant for breakfast, and if anyone says “oh, you’re so lucky you don’t have to watch what you eat” I will say “why the fuck would I do that??” rather than blushing prettily and pretending it’s a compliment, like I have any say over what shape my body wants to be, and like changing/maintaining the shape of my body would be a good enough reason not to eat whatever the fuck I want. I’m a loyal friend, and will do just about anything to help someone who needs it, but I’m also not prepared to let people walk over me. Oh, and I am pretty fucking good at rewriting songs to be about funny shit, and I’m pretty sure I’m pretty fucking good in bed, too.

I am Pryncess-fucking-lia and I have skills! I can make you the most delectable (and beautiful) birthday cake you have ever tasted. I can breastfeed a fussy baby while sending email and talking to the VP of Construction on the phone without missing a beat. I can craft/sew/paint into existence things that will make your kids lose their minds. I can throw a party that will be talked about for years afterward. I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. I rock. And so do the rest of you!

I am Em-fucking-sy. And I started to make my list and I got a little upset.

I’ve worked my way into a field I love. I’m helping to plan a conference on sexuality. I have type 1 diabetes and manage it daily. I’ve got a family (and a chosen family), that I love dearly and who love me right back. I have perfect pitch and a really good aural memory. I taught myself to cook – mostly by intuition. I am a geek, an outspoken feminist, and an empathetic listener.

I am a multitasker. I have too many balls in the air, and it is making me hyperventilate.

But for today, knowing that I, Em-fucking-sy, know myself well enough to adapt when necessary, ought to be enough.

Wow. You know, lately I have felt way bummed out about not accomplishing enough due to my mental health problems, but there are some things that I am *really* good at because of my mental health issues.

I volunteer to facilitate a support group for people with mental illness, and I am really fucking good at that. I can de-escalate people who are irrationally angry or fearful. I can reassure folks with paranoid delusions. I can offer support to people who are feeling distressed and alone. I can get people to talk who generally don’t. I can get people to listen who often can’t stop talking. I am Claudia Fucking Calling and I am a damn good support group facilitator.

I have to say, this blog has one impressive bunch of readers. As for me, I am Bee Fucking [redacted], and basically I kick ass. I was one of five undergrads to make it into my program of choice last fall and I don’t give a shit if aero engineering isn’t very ‘feminine,’ because I am damn good at what I do. Math? Ha. I do calculus in my head and integration in my sleep (quite literally). I don’t have to work at it, it just clicks.

I’m also a kickass public speaker and political debater, and I refuse to feel any fucking shame about where I came from. I’m a classically trained violinist, play a mean ukulele (and three other instruments), and as soon as I’m done with this comment, I’m going to bake some delicious fucking cupcakes for my boyfriend, then wrangle my programming project into submission.

I’m Christine fucking Murray and I made wicked awesome cookies. Point me at any cookie recipe and I’ll customize the hell out of it and make it better. I have folks that will totally vouch for this. I also code wicked awesome HTML & CSS (this one I get paid for).

I’m mickey, and I’m a damned good NMR spectroscopist. Seriously, I can interpret spectra like no one’s business, and all my colleagues come to me for assistance.

Thanks for writing this, Kate. My husband has been working on my for years to say that first line with no qualifiers. It’s only been recently that I have been able to do it w/no self depreciation. This is such a necessary thing for women to be able to do.

I’m Jackie fucking May and I can spell anything. I kick ass at Boggle, crosswords, writing fiction with lists in it, and standardized testing. I also make the best brownies, Americanized kheer, and rhubarb muffin-bread you ever had or imagined. I will make you laugh with one-liners that you’ll quote back to me years later.

I’m fucking Millicent, and I am a strong woman. I just had my 9th anniversary of sobriety. I live with MS and chronic pain, and do it well. I can copy-edit the hell out of any text you put in front of me. I am raising my two sons to be feminists and allies, not sexist jerks. I am really fucking cool.

And no one will hire me, but, you know what? I can arrange and describe the shit out of manuscript collections. So there. So. Fucking. There. And I can date old books practically just by touching them. And if someone wants a book and can’t find a copy, I can almost always find it for them, and for cheaper that they expected. I am rowmyboat the fucking librarian/archivist.

I am Pyro-fucking-don. Before the end of high school, I had visited and left friends in more countries than most visit in their lifetime. I had mastered everything from bread and buttonholes to changing oil in my car and power tools. My first instinct in a new place is to figure out how the space was constructed (support beams, lighting details, etc) and I can read up to 100 pages an hour.

I also code extremely well and quickly, and easily grasp mathematical concepts. I enjoy statistics and finding good models to fit data, from creating my own WoW hunter & pet stat spreadsheet to more recent academic pursuits. I am a proud geek and a gamer. I DM a weekly GURPS game in a world I built with a custom magic system. I am extremely good at translating computerese to English and teaching why things came to be instead of just how they are.

In the past few years, I not just survived but conquered my own cancer, my mother’s cancer, and depression. I left my programming job for the computer science PhD program at fucking Harvard, have increased my GPAs every semester, published two papers, and have an awesome internship lined up for the summer.

I love how much we Shaplings rock in so many different ways! (even if I’m just a lurker)

Okay I just have to add that not only is reading the additional comments just giving me a thrilling sense of “OMG people are so freaking AWESOME!” but this post made me fill out the self evaluation at work that came out today without ONCE coating what I accomplished in the past year with any sort of hedging or downplay text. Rock ON!

I am J fucking R, and I am fucking smart. I have a masters in math and do awesome work as a statistical programmer. I can write code like nobody’s business. I am also really fucking funny. I can deliver the best fucking deadpan sarcasm you have ever pissed yourself laughing over. You know what else? I have 50 inch hips that can shimmy as well as some of my belly dance instructors. I can also cook and sew and bake amazing bread.

I’ve handled solo exhibitions of my own work with aplomb, curated and organized shows for other artists, written good artist statements, exhibition proposals, and grant applications and the cherry on top is that I’m a damn fine professor.

This is reminding me of a conversation I had with my boyfriend a few days ago. I was feeling sorry for myself after he had tried unsuccessfully to explain his math research to me, and was complaining that he always understands things when I explain them to him. He pointed out that the correct moral of this story is not “Ben is smart” (though that’s also true), but “Sarah is really really good at explaining things”.

Not only am I good at explaining things either in person or in print, but if relevant I will do so with entertaining sound effects, facial expressions, and mime, which I can duplicate in instant-replay mode on demand. :-)

I’ve worked in bakeries, 5 star hotels, and restaurants with named chefs.
I can walk into most kitchens at dinner time and work the pastry line for the night after you show me where you keep stuff.
I cuss with the big boys or say gosh, depending on how I feel that night, and lose no face.
I’ve served presidents, kings, celebrities, titans of industry, and I’m such a fucking professional, when I dished out sorbet for Dick Cheney, I didn’t spike it with anything.
I can make the sides of a wedding cake so straight and so smooth, you wouldn’t believe it was done by hand.
I can decorate that cake so it looks just like the one in your head.
I’m so good with my hands, I can pick up the most fragile things without breaking them because I know tolerances by touch.
Right now I work in a major department store and I make desserts for a few thousand employees every day. And I’m not just the pastry chef there, I’m the whole fucking department because I have no minions (but I will one day and those minions will LEARN dammit)
My brownies are LEGEND.
Also, you want to know the science behind my work? Ask and ye shall know. If I don’t know (and I usually do) I know where to find it out.

I’m also a great reader and I can remember what I’ve read and work it into interesting bits of conversation.

I often (as do many other shapelings apparently) leave my husband speechless in bed.

I can translate British into American and back again.

I am so awesome, I moved to a foreign country and carved a life out for myself for 2 years without knowing a single soul before I left home.

While in Europe, I stand up for America, so when ignorant people tell me that no, no, I’m not like those other Americans, I’m one of the good ones, I correct them so they know I’m one of the normal ones and they shouldn’t listen to all the crap they see on TV.

I’m good with history. I can tell you about when stuff happened, and more importantly, what it meant. I specialize in knowing food history, of course. :)

I am COURTNEY FUCKING BADASS. I stand up for myself. I write amazing literary criticism. I am a sophisticated writer with a unique voice. I read the shit out of books. I am going to be a kick-ass teacher.

Thanks for this post, Kate! Combined with The Sexist’s recent article about internet harassment, I am going to have the best mood all day today. And I should. Because I’m AWESOME. (Also, you’re awesome. And so are your commenters.)

I have an impressive sense of smell and great scent memory. Plus, my nose has stamina! I can sniff bottles of fragrance all day, cheerfully taking notes, and my nose doesn’t get fatigued or confused. Were I to seek out training, I think I’d be a good perfumer.

I’m working my way through one of the best graduate programs in my field right now, and I’m keeping pace with people who are 10 years younger and better-rested than I am. Not only that, but I’m secure enough to be happy for my classmates’ successes and to be genuinely helpful to and collaborative with my colleagues whenever possible.

I have notable patience, both in the classroom while my students are working through something tricky and in poring over different versions of the same texts in the archives. Not everybody can do archival work, but I not only can, I find it rewarding, fun, and important.

I’ve got good endurance for someone of my fitness level. When I run regularly, I’m pretty stinkin’ good at hills.

Delicacy (ha!) forbids me to crow about what various people have said about my skills in bed. ;)

And I’m the kind of friend that a person can call at 3 in the morning, when they need someone to help them move out of their abusive ex-boyfriend’s apartment. Because as risk-averse as I usually am, when it matters most, I am not afraid.

I am Rachel fucking B, and I am fucking grinning with delight at all your accomplishments, and I am fucking bookmarking this thread under the label “happy-making.”

I stop by here sometimes, have always lurked, a friend pointed me to this post today as something she wants to talk about. Before I begin, I want to say that this post and the comments have near totally salvaged my mood for the day. I love the mix of humor and the trufax and the whole finding out how AWESOME other people are. Seriously. TELL ME MOAR ABOUT HOW YOU MAKE THE WORLD NIFTY!

And so,

I am Angie Fucking Fritz, and I am spectacular at picturing beautiful things that need to be realized as art and design, in response to shit I see and hear around me.

I am damn good and only getting better at getting my ideas out of my head and into a reality to share them. I manage to make a good 3 out of ten ideas of mine a reality these days, and an extra two will tend to get noted down before being forgotten and WILL BE GOTTEN TO.

I am awesome at mixing and matching colors and using them for both sheer aesthetics and symbolically. I have gotten fucking compliments on this from other people and I am going to stop scuffing my foot and going ‘aw shucks’ because I have that talent.

And I am going to make my complete freaking living doing art, because art is what I fucking love and what makes the world awesome to me, and is the thing I am BEST at, and because art isn’t fucking useless and is something society needs as much as lawyers and even doctors to be an actual goddamn civilization.

I also note I am good at writing poetry and other short things, that I am damn good at playing various games from scrabble to role-playing, and that I play my WoW characters fucking well.

This is so fantastic. Everyone here is so amazing; it gives me hope that there are so many brilliantly awesome people in this world.

Now, then. I am M.-fucking-Dubz, and I am a scholar and a lady. I can write a brilliant ethnography with interviews so good that they get repeated compliments from my adviser. I can finish 2 bachelor’s degrees in four years, while studying texts in a language that I didn’t know three years ago, at all. I can write a sermon and lead a prayer service like it’s no big thing, and leave people feeling GOOD afterward. I can dance better than most people. I can throw together a dinner party for fourteen in two days. I can take care of my friends. I am M.-fucking-Dubz, and I am AWESOME!

@Laura512: I support the idea of a Shapeling Recipe Thread over the weekend! (…or should we take it to the Ning thing? I could never get the hang of the Ning thing.)

GETTIN’ ON TOPIC: In case you’ve forgotten, I’m The Goddamned Lampdevil (I really like putting it like that) and I can type over 95 wpm! When I get goin’, it’s like there’s a rainstorm on the rooftops. I can build my own computers and can fix all sorts of problems with existing ones. I’ve published web comics and I’ve drawn and coded awesome digital paper dolls. I’ve sold markers at a toy booth over the holidays and not only earned enough money on comission to pay my rent AND buy a bus ticket home, but some guy was so impressed with my work he paid me to do some illustrations for him!

I am Yael Fucking Tiferet, and I have failed a lot, but I have learned a lot, and I am taking back my power. I don’t use my real name on the internet, so this is not actually it.

But I ran a journal-based RPG that lasted for 5 years and it isn’t actually dead. I have learned a lot about how people relate through online roleplay, and when we reboot it, we’re going to build a platform for it and we’re going to share what we’ve learned.

And I am a damn good writer and I am an awesome seamstress and a pretty good amateur photoshopper.

i am la-fucking-niebla and i am an ALL PURPOSE WHOLE GRAIN FULL FAT BADASS. I pick up skills like they’re spills, and have kicked ass at countless careers, including teaching adults and kids, project/event-coordinating, and most recently, nursing (getting my license soon!). I’m fluent in two languages, can read a third without footnotes, and have forgotten a fourth! I can make a chocolate cake that will make your knees buckle, play the euphonium while it’s baking, then chill out while we eat it. I write awesome, unpretentious poetry, grow lemons in my window, and will salsa dance you debajo de la mesa!

i love reading everybody’s answers! there is so much room in the world for everybody to be awesome – where’d we ever get the idea that our own awesomeness would infringe on other people’s? oh wait…right… :/

I second (or third or fourth or fifth, whatever we’re up to now) that this is a timely post for me, and that it is made of awesome. I’ve been horrifyingly cruel to myself about my value as a person lately, feeling worthless and useless, and it’s been very difficult to fight.

So here I go, writing it all down and then hitting Submit before I can change my mind and let my own Little Hater tell me I’m a bad person for saying this…

I’m Gwen-Fucking-Ophelia and I am incredibly intelligent and really good at learning. I read and retain information at an amazing pace. I am hands down the most talented, efficient, creative, and resourceful print production professional I’ve ever met. I am incredibly good at teaching myself software programs, and I have a talent for turning around and teaching them to other people. I’m a talented musician who plays a mean trumpet (among other instruments). I’m a kickass softball pitcher who is not afraid to stand in the way and make people twice my size knock me down to get to home plate. I’m a kind person who will give the toll booth operator $10 for a $2 toll and pay for the people behind me. My friends have urged me to get my psych degree because I’m so good at listening to them and making them feel better about bad/stressful situations. I’m an unabashed feminist who knows she doesn’t have it all figured out but admits when she’s wrong and never stops trying. I’m fearless at public speaking and enjoy every minute of it, whether the crowd is 5 or 5,000. Every former lover has testified that my head-giving skills are legendary in unimaginably good ways.

God damn. I think I’ve commented here once before, but I’ve gotta put my two cents in on this one.

I am Thessa Fucking Mercury. I am a fucking awesome poet, editor, critic, and writer of creative fiction. I am a fucking BFA Theatre Performance student. I have a fucking full ride to college. I am fucking smart as hell. I can speak and read French fucking fluently. I bake fucking delicious cookies. And you know what else? I am a fucking HOT woman.

I am P – fucking- uffalo, And I’m so smart and awesome and creative that my most brilliant fabulous friends tell me I’m the smartest, awesomest, most creative person they know.
I taught myself to spin yarn, and not only am I wearing a sweater I knit without a pattern with yarn I spun myself, but I’ve moved across several states using my handspun yarn as moving twine. I’ve repaired cars with my yarn. I’ve spun with cottonballs and cat fur, and the results have been beautiful.
In high school I painted a completely SFW Dali-inspired mural so obscene that it had to be painted over, and got tons of compliments on my painting skillz, and tales of my painting were retold as legend in my younger sister’s class, and may still be told today. I went to state science fair with a group project that was my idea, and taught elementary school kids to do algebra so well that a kid who the teacher mentioned had trouble in class asked for more problems so he could do them for fun later.
I’m good to my cat.
I can write, paint, sculpt, draw, and make books well enough that people who specialize in those things are impressed by my work. I can make people laugh. In philosophy classes in college, I could tell what concepts the class was having trouble with and help clarify by asking the professor just the right questions. When
I’m marrying the only person I ever dated, without any legal recognition, and we’re asking guests to help cook, and everyone we’ve told so far has been THRILLED.

Most importantly, I’ve learned to listen to other people’s mindbogglingly impressive achievements without getting jealous. It was damn hard to get here, but now I can tell my highschool BFF, “It’s so awesome that you started a nonprofit that does tangible good while studying medicine full time and writing for literary journals and anthologies, and still find time for charity work,” and mean it in honest good faith. It makes this thread way fabulous.

I am fairy-fucking-logic and this post has inspired me to de-lurk after months of enjoying this place anonymously.

I have a fantastic sense for color and adornment. I can do fabulous make-up and create a costume for any occasion out of the contents of my closet. I auditioned and got my first theater role last year, and I’m taking a week-long stage combat workshop next month so I can be even more of a badass on stage. I’m not afraid to sing in public and I will dance whenever I have the opportunity. I can throw clay and weld metal. I make monsters. I cuddle like no-one’s business and I’ve been told that hugs are my superpower. I can walk into a room and have everyone there in love with me by the time I leave. I am a good friend, an awesome wife, and you are damn lucky if I consider you part of my chosen family. I boldly GO and nothing is going to keep me back once I put my mind to something.

I am vega-fucking-tative and I am a scientist. I ask questions that interest me, and sometimes other people find what I do fucking cool as well. I can make connections and get insight from those connections. I can think in number, in math, in data, in statistics, and I am so good that people come to me for insight into their data analysis. I rock at nurturing the young one-on-one – I mentor my grad students, and I am a warm and loving mom, and my kids are great in part because of me. And I can read as fast as Shinobi. I am velcro for random facts. I can fucking think.

You know what else is a collective super power? We can all be fucking awesome without having to prove that we are more fucking awesome than each other. I think this is really important because it seems like sometimes as humans we feel this need to prove that we are superior. But that isn’t really necessary. The awesomeness of others in no way diminishes our individual awesomeness.

I am “Fate-Fucking-Fox” and I started from a cow town in the middle of nowhere, and am going to someday work internationally.

I don’t know how, I don’t know when, I don’t know where, but that doesn’t matter. I am nearly finished with the education that will get me where I am going, and I am rocking in a “traditionally” male-dominated major of political science.

This post hit home for me, as just last week I did something pretty awesome, and have been nervously fielding compliments from my peers and professors ever since. And almost every time, I’ve qualified their praises with the kinds of excuses Kate mentioned. It makes me so anxious to get praised, maybe because secretly I don’t believe I deserve it. Well no more. You know what, it was a big deal, I am really proud of myself and my project, I’m pleased that people liked it, and I am going to follow through and see this thing to publication and beyond.

I am Erin Fucking Elise and I am really, really good at my chosen field of study. I am an excellent public speaker, a diligent researcher, a critical reader, and a damn fine writer.

I recently talked to my partner about how I ended a presentation with a qualifying remark…he’d brought it up, and was totally right about how it diminished everything I’d said before. It was a great reminder.

So, I am Spinster Fucking Witch (and now History Fucking Geek) saying that I am a great therapist and am working hard to become awesome genealogist!

I’m really fucking good at figuring people out. I am a psychologist at heart and in mind. I am friggin’ awesome at counsling those who need an ear. I am good at lending a hand and healing a heart. I am honest, to the point, and can cut to the heart of things in a flash. Sometimes, I think my insight is so razor sharp I can sum someone up in an instant. I am an intuitive wizard.

I really, really, _really_ needed this today.
I am Housewife-fucking-2000 I rock, kick ass, and take names, regularly. I am the only accounting major in my accounting class right now, and the only female, and I have the highest grade. I am a numbers and formula geek, and damned proud of it. I nust ass every day raising three sones, all of whom are awesome in their own way, going to school, working from home, and keeping my world running.
I deserve recognition for this, and if nothing else, I am recognizing myself for it.
Thank you!

I am 567 fucking Kate, and I am a damn good engineer. I graduated at the top of my class for my Bachelors, and am currently in a highly regarded PhD program. I gave a very well-received conference talk, and I have had my work featured in a trade magazine. I do all this as the only woman in my lab, and frequently the only woman in my classes.

And I still have a whopping case of imposter syndrome, so it’s good to remind myself of these things.

I am Nancy fucking M. and I am awesome at customer service. Even in fast food. I just have this thing for it. When I make things right it feels like I’ve won. When I’ve made someone’s day better it makes me feel good, too. Luckily, I’m out of the fast food business. Because I hate the rushes, the noises, the coworkers. It all kinda sucks.
Now, though, I’m in sales, making lists, and I am the best list-maker around.
I also have a pretty awesome blog. People, especially women, like my Fat Activism pieces.
I’m getting pretty good at drawing comics.
I’m nice. Really nice.
I’m REALLY good with babies.
My writing has a great power of stirring up emotions in people, good and bad.
I make the best brownies around.
I make awesome collages.

At this point in the comments I don’t imagine what I say will get read by very many, but this is the perfect time to get this shit out there, because I’ve put into place a big life change – I’ve taken a 6 month leave from working, starting next Friday. And you know what? I’m really fucking good at my job. That doesn’t stop being true just because I’m not doing that job for a while. And if I never go back to this work – it is still true that I am very fucking good at my job.

@gwen ophelia: a friend of mine had a stuffed bear that she brilliantly named “critical inner voice bear.” whenever she’s get down on herself, she’d grab that bear with both hands and shake it by the shoulders and tell it to STFU!

OMG, you guys, I’m trying to write a cover letter right now, for a job that would be perfect for me, and this is really helping/not helping. I have to stop myself from being all, “I can tell what kind of fucking animal that leather book binding came from by looking at it/how old the damn paper is by holding it up to the light, so give me a gorram job!” while still blowing my own horn about how awesome and well-educated I am.

I am Dr-Fucking-Georgia and I am a kick-ass scientist. I stuck with a project I liked even when I was told it was irrelevant and then when the flu pandemic broke out last year I had some of the foremost experts in the field asking me (a grad student) for my opinions and advice (My dissertation was on Pandemic Potential of Swine Influenza Viruses).

I love college football and professional hockey. Not just a little bit – I could happily spend all day watching either. I do not just watch, I know my sports, and my teams. I do not know a lot “for a girl”, I know a lot PERIOD! I understood the BCS when it was more complicated than it is now.

I read really fast. On a day when I’m not working it’s not unusual for me to make it through 2 novels. I also remember things I read. My mind is a trap for trivia.

Have been checking this thread all day and am in love with it and want to make my (delicious, if I do say so myself) caramel brownies for it!

You are all awesome AND I’m fascinated by how many commenters seem to be transitioning into amazing second, third, etc. careers. As someone who walked away from a lucrative career because I hated it, and actually liked myself better for making the decision AND like myself better as who I am now – even though most everyone in my life told me I was a fucking idiot – I’m excited to see so many other great people doing this too! Rock on with your career 2.0, 4.0, 6.0, whatever!

I am Valerian, and I am god damn amazing. I’ve been through ludicrous amounts of bullshit, and I fight my own mental illness, mostly without backup, every single fucking day. I have amazing amounts of self-control, and I know this because the people who’ve abused me are still fuckin’ alive. I am a fuckin’ awesome home cook, I’m getting better everyday, and I do it with really ordinary ingredients on a shitty budget. I ignore people who don’t deserve my time, and I do it well. I am a great friend and an amazing lay and you know what? I fucking love my photography, I love doing it, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I am my own #1 fan.

I read the last book of Harry Potter in 3 hours in the Barnes and Noble because I was too broke to buy it, so damn straight I read fast. I kind of write like crap (I know, I know, not in the spirit of the thread), but I am an awesome editor and world-builder. When I gave a shit I was the best damn rogue my stupid MMO ever saw, and I am not gonna apologize for wasting my own damn time however I damn well please. It wasn’t productive but it was fucking fun and it’s my life, fuck anyone who tries to tell me what to do with my free time.

One day I’m gonna be a great fucking actuary, and I don’t know what else yet, and I am not apologizing for not knowing. I am all my flaws and I am all my awesomeness and I am done apologizing for being myself, and I’m done putting up with people who expect me to apologize. They can kiss my awesome ass (and yes, my ass is also god damn amazing).

Sometimes I have Rice Krispie treats and vodka for dinner, and I don’t apologize.

I was brought up to defer to men in all things. I was raised to be a good woman who would surrender all personal ideas and ambitions to the will of God and my husband. I fought these notions through every step of childhood. I survived childhood in an abusive patriarchal subculture only to “escape” to an abusive marriage. Fuck that noise. I’m over it.

I started college at 15 but never got a degree as I was in and out of school in rhythm with bipolar disorder… and for a while I almost gave up. I got married to a man I love and respect. Had three kids. And almost… almost forgot that the woman I was trained to be is not the woman I want to teach my daughters to be. I almost forgot how much I love anthropology and working with human remains and spending hours in laboratories being part of the assembly of history.

But I didn’t actually forget.

So I’m 35 and going back to school in three weeks. I’m putting my youngest in daycare and leaving the stay-at-home life that has given me the stability and security to get a grip on this bipolar thing and I’m finally going to get my Anthro degree. Minoring in Women’s Studies.

My kids will miss me. I will miss them. My husband and I are going to have to confront more if the imbalances in our relationship than I’ve ever been brave enough to address before. I’m scared. But I’m doing it anyway.

I’m a fucking genius whose made some huge mistakes and has spent most of my adult life being too scared to step up and claim my awesomeness. No more.

I am Anomic Fucking Entropy. I can tell *by smell* that one of my kids is getting sick 2 days before any other symptoms manifest. I am awesome at finding and maintaining incredible friendships. For most trivia I am faster and more reliable than Google. When my husband calls from work it is usually because one of his co-workers asked him something that they knew I would know. I am an excellent dancer. I have a body awareness that makes me look good on stage and in photographs, regardless of weight or conventional trappings of beauty. When I’m hypomanic I can produce artwork that renders people speechless. I’m damn good in the kitchen – mostly because I understand the chemistry. And like I said, I don’t accept limits – if conventional paths don’t get me where I want to be, I will work around every road block and make my own way. Even when it’s easier to just go with the flow. I’m quiet and I’m fierce and I’m taking charge of my life and not backing down.

First, a quick disclaimer: I’ve commented on here before on a different name, but this is my first time using my real name online. I think I like it.

Holy fuck, we are a kick ass community! I second (fourth?) the hell out of this statement: “You know what else is a collective super power? We can all be fucking awesome without having to prove that we are more fucking awesome than each other.”

So enough about how awesome all of you guys are, let’s talk about how awesome I am. :P

I have amazing presence. People fucking NOTICE me. It isn’t always a good thing, but it is totes notable.

I’m an awesome poet. My first published work was in a kids’ magazine when I was 6. My first published work in a “grown up” publication was at the tender age of 12. Looking back at my poetry then, it was pretty fucking awesome, but I’m even better now, AND I plan on improving even more. I wrote a full length novel when I was 14, and when I was 16 I decided it was too crappy to publish, so I scrapped it and started a new one.

I can read faster than anyone I know, and I remember every book I’ve ever read. I’m currently in the middle of reading 6 books, and without bookmarks I know exactly where I am in each book, and I know exactly where I am in the plot without having to look back in the previous chapter. In the 4th grade I read the entire Lord Of The Rings series in one night, including all of the appendixes.

I’m a great musician. I have great tone recall, I can write and sing complex harmonies on just about anything off the top of my head, I can recognize thousands of songs after hearing the first measure or two, I am a phenomenal tuba player (and I haven’t even gone to school for it – yet), and despite losing 50% of my vocal range after a throat infection, I still have a really good voice that I can tell is only going to improve with age.

I’m a really good cook. I started cooking in restaurants when I was 13 or 14, and even though I don’t do it professionally anymore I’m the best home cook I know. I also make killer mixed drinks, and I’ve invented several recipes that my parties are famous for. I’m so good with food and liquor (preparing and consuming) that I plan on opening up my own wine and tapas bar in a couple of years.

Related to previous: I’m a fucking awesome waitress. Last night one of my tables tipped me 115% on an expensive meal and told me I’d given them the best service they’d ever had, and they asked me for my boss’s phone number to tell him how awesome I am. I love giving good service and few things upset me more than customers having a bad experience, even when it isn’t my fault.

I’m a great dog trainer, and my own dogs (past and present) have been so obedient, happy, and well trained that people compliment me on the street just about every day on their perfect behavior.

I do all of this awesome stuff despite having an undiagnosed chronic pain condition that makes me unable to get out of bed some days. And I’m only 20, which means that I have tons of time ahead of me to a)get even more awesome and b)get that damn pain taken care of by a doctor who will listen to me.

I am Ellen Fucking Brand, and primarily, I write really damned good psychoanalytical fanfiction. I also kick ass at fight scenes. I hold belts in 3 different martial arts, I can fence, I kick ass at Zelda, and I’m a good cook. I rock at explaining things and tutoring people one on one. I take no shit from anyone, and I’m improving my ability to take constructive criticism in leaps and bounds. I’m single and happy.

Oh yeah, I’m Ange and I’m fucking rad as all get out. I mean unless you don’t read my blog you probably already know I’m a bad ass Barney Miller loving blacademic who has a foxy boyfriend, a pretty sweet writing career and a table named Mandy Patinkin.

I also drive a stick shift so smooth you’d think you were riding in Nana’s Buick.

Lawdy this was difficult. I saw this post when it was only two comments and I wanted to say something but couldn’t for the life of me think of anything.

I am Oriniwen and I am an amazing fucking geologist.

I used to think I was crap because I felt like I was just guessing but then I realized that I go through the entire scientific process IN MY HEAD – observation, hypothesis, testing – SO MOTHERFUCKING FAST it looks like I have some sort of magical “intuition” for the rocks.

I also have a phenominal memory and never forget a fossil – trace or otherwise.

Oh yeah … I am also Living fucking 400lbs, and most my days are NOT about my weight, positive or negative. I get up, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to work, work, go home, and so forth without my weight being an obstacle or an asset or anything other than just there.

I am Velvet fucking Page. I am a badass teacher. I get ten-year-olds doing fucking algebra and exploring probability in ways I didn’t explore it myself until my last year of high school. My kids leave me knowing how to problem-solve and confident they can do it. They leave me knowing that I’ve given them an early taste of the vast store of knowledge that’s waiting for them if they want it badly enough, and they leave me with the first groundwork laid to go out and take it. Their grade six teachers have me to thank for their high scores next year. Someday, my students are going to do amazing things and credit me with inspiring them.

I’m Isua Fucking Someone, and my macaroni and cheese is goddamn legendary. I got a PhD from M.I.fuckingT.*, and I had people coming up to me for days after my thesis defense telling me I gave the best scientific talk they ever saw. I am the bestest guinea pig owner out there. I am the only person on earth who can explain the hot new chemical way to look at past ocean circulation on a Dick and Jane level, and this is probably why I just got a new job. I am goddamn terrified of therapy but I started it yesterday anyway and this is a very good exercise for me.

* The Massachusetts Institute of Fucking Technology: Building a Better Dildo Since 1865.

I’m Solange Fucking Lys and I live alone! I do something every day that many people are terrified to do: I go to bed and wake up by myself. I am a fucking good actress! I do something regularly that MOST people are terrified to do: I get up in front of a bunch of people, or sometimes maybe only 2 or 3, and act! I have grown better and better as an actress over the years. Where before people would say “you’re so talented” or “I loved your facial expressions” or something, now they say “that was wonderful” or “you were awesome” or they just hug me with tears in their eyes or with a laugh in their throat. The director of my last play said “They love you. When you’re happy, they’re happy, and when you’re sad, they’re sad.” I ROCK! When I went to Paris, I spoke French with guards, tour guides, ticket-takers, and food-sellers, and they almost all the time spoke French back to me! During a taxi ride from Notre Dame to the Tour Eiffel, the driver conversed IN FRENCH with me the entire time! At an Austrian bistro in Pennsylvania, I ordered in German, and the counterman said my GERMAN was good! And I only studied German for 2 years! On a cruise, I spoke some Spanish with the room steward, and he understood me and I understood him, and I’ve never even studied Spanish! I can do languages! Yay me! I’m Solange Fucking Lys and on top of all of the above, I’m an excellent proofreader and copy editor, and a fabulous fellatrix! Men have called out my name in utter ecstasy! Woo hoo!

I’m Tropical Fucking Chrome, and I am the fucking amazing person you turn to when you need a technical concept explained to people without the a technical background so they actually understand it.

I’m damned near a genius at finding the holes in your logical argument or your data which you’ll probably hate me for in the short term because it means more work for you, but you’ll be back in two weeks thanking me for pointing them out early rather than letting you twist when someone points it out during your presentation. I’ve got the backbone to say the Emperor Has No Clothes when everyone else is praising his tailoring and fabric choices. I can find ways to break your software you never even thought of.

This also makes me a damn fine plot editor for the fiction writers I know.

I’m also the best damn crew member you could ask for on the MMO I play. I’m the one who saved the run when everyone was dead because I not only knew all the powers of the rings I was carrying, I knew the side effects and how to use them. I not only kept the bad guys at bay, I resurrected all your sorry dead asses along the way.

I design and sew clothes for my ball jointed dolls (seen in my avatar) that look and drape like REAL human clothes. Even up close. Yes, the jeans have working belt loops and zippers and pockets because real jeans do, too. Yes, it’s a pain in the ass but you know? I worked at it.

I’m a kick ass home cook. I can go from “what am I going to make for dinner?” to a meal with three dishes (including seasonings and sauces from scratch) in 25 minutes when I need to.

I’m forty fucking six years old and am more awesome now than I’ve ever been before. And I look better, too – not only because I know what looks good on *me*, but I’ve learned how to rock the hell out of it. Because I deserve to rock it.

Oh, superpowers, I never get lost. I have an amazing sense of direction. Show me something once and I can find it again, years later, in different weather and when all the major landmarks have been torn down and replaced.

I’m also an awesome driver, from nine years behind the wheel of a city bus, and I also drive a smooth-assed stickshift but I want an automatic because my bum leg deserves a break.

I am Anna-fucking-belle, and I am a fucking great student. I am 22 and I have a full-time job, I am fucking independent, and I’m fucking putting myself through a Master’s program in international affairs and African studies at an awesome university. I can write a fantastic paper like nobody’s business, I love love love to read, and I get the best high from fucking GOING TO CLASS. I fucking love school and dammit, I will change the world someday.

Oh, and I also know an obscene amount about Bing Crosby and “White Christmas.” I can fucking RECITE the movie! So in conclusion, not only and I fucking amazing, but you ALL are blowing my mind!

I should also mention: I am hilarious. Apparently when I’m not around my friends sit there and stare at each other, which seems impossible to me because of the zany fun we have when I am there. Which I am apparently the cause of. Because of how hilarious I am.

Everyone, I just wanted to say how very wonderful its been to read all of your awesome amazingness. And I did read all of them.

Its funny, at first I felt sort of ashamed that I listed sewing and knitting and then other people were saying things that I thought were way cooler and I felt silly and small. Then I realized “Wait… that’s like the opposite of the point Lexy, shut the fuck up, you’re awesome.”

But I do have one more thing that I’m fucking awesome at.

I’m an amazing teacher/tutor. People who don’t understand accounting come to me and then I make them get it. People who are failing, people who’ve had other more credentialed teachers, they see me and learn how to be awesome like me. I love watching their little wings start to work. So I’m Fucking Lexy and I can show you how to keep your goddamned books like a motherfucking machine.

I am a mad gardener. I will change the hardscape to fix the drainage and then
plant it to last for years, with minimal maintenance. All my neighbors complement me on my yard, and then work to make similar changes in their yards.

I am an awesome baker, and can get prideful engineers to do what I want for cookies and muffins. Neighbors ask when my holiday cookie basket is coming.

I am a wine aficionado. I can spot a bad wine with a sniff. I help wine newbies express what they like about wine, and help them find wines they will like. I can pair wine and food and friends have asked me to do this for their weddings. ‘Wines for your wedding brunch with an omelet station? No problem.’

I’m Alexandra Fucking Erin, and I am not afraid of giving this speech because fuck it I write awesome shit and people love it so much they send me money for it even though they don’t have to. I’ve received roughly fifty bazillion messages and inquiries from people asking me when I’m going to come to their area and do this. I am not just fucking awesome, I am in fucking demand and I don’t really care who thinks I’m arrogant.

And I’ll get back to that dangling When… When I was a TA, I taught my students that they could be right and those old dead-guys could be wrong, and it blew their fucking minds, in the best possible way.

I’m not especially bawdy, but I can turn just about any innocuous statement into an innuendo,.and I only do it when it’s genius so I can keep my skill a total surprise.

I’m Puffa- fucking-lo and I need two. whole. posts. to contain my awesomeness (maybe more!). And I’m going to make whoopie pies and drink pink champagne this weekend just because I fucking want to.

This thread had me bawling like a baby. Took me three tries to get through it. You are all so awesome and I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say about myself.

Here goes… It ain’t much but it is all I got. My mother told me last weekend that I was the most easily contented person she ever met. I don’t think she meant it as a compliment but I am gonna take it that way.

I am mc fuckin m and I am fucking awesome at finding ways to amuse myself. I also know how to take a critisism and turn it into a compliment!

I am Deadbeat fucking Nymph and I am smart. Smarty-smart-smart. The kind of smart that maintains the highest GPA in an entire school of 2,000 students, and then wins an award for highest GPA in an entire university. The kind of smart that makes people say, “maybe you should hide it because it’s intimidating to some people, and also, you’ll never get a man that way.” And I laugh, because I’m Deadbeat fucking Nymph, and any man that I’d ever want to be with would be Smarty fucking Pants himself, and not the least bit afraid of me, which would be perfectly fine for me because I wouldn’t be afraid of him in the least, either. Because I’m Deadbeat fucking Nymph, and not only am I smart, but I’m not afraid to be smart or to show it.

(Wow, that felt amazing. It took a long while to get to the point of not feeling guilty about this, but now I just feel peaceful and content. Thank you, Kate fucking Harding and Sady fucking Doyle.)

(Long time lurker, first time commenter)
Thank you all so much for this thread. You are all amazing, amazing people, and I finally decided to post my own contribution, even though it is honestly the most difficult thing I’ve had to do for weeks. (I have severe, pathological self loathing, and I’m usually not capable of believing nice things about myself, but I am going to complete this anyway through tears, because I am working damn hard to overcome the spiteful little voice and it’s NOT going to beat me today.)
I am Cate fucking Anonymous, and I am fundamentally a decent person. I will help anybody I can and try to help people I can’t. I will defend what I love and believe in with everything I’ve got.
While I’m not creative like many of the people here I do have a very wide range of interests, and I love soaking up new facts and trivia about everything from politics to ancient history to law to physics to film. I have a good sense of humour. I have an unusual combination of personality traits- I have an offbeat, introspective imagination, and I am incisive and practical enough to cut through distractions and really get things done, and come up with ingenious solutions to problems. I have a good eye for detail, words and structure. I am intelligent, and I am slowly acquiring enough self worth to stop saying ‘but but most people are far more intelligent than I am’.
I have a strong emotional stomach and a great deal of resilience, and can deal with monstrous, distressing crap (personally and professionally) without flinching. I am an inventive cook, and can make you something tasty out of practically nothing at all. I am overcoming a hell of a lot of difficulties and pursuing my dream career (vocation, really); soon, despite everything, I will be involved in a field that makes me giddy and breathless with excitement just to think about it. I am doing well, and that’s something that I never thought I’d be able to say.

I am Rig FUCKING Pixie. I work offshore and can do it wearing glitter. I can tell you what that drill string is drilling through. I can write songs. I play the fucking bagpipes and look HOT in a kilt. I do math for fun when I get bored. I’m good at crosswords. I can adapt to talk to whomever is in the room.

I can argue a point with grace and eloquence, or slam the motherfucker to the floor. I am generous nearly to a fault. I am kind to those around me, even when they are selfish sons of a bitches. I don’t back down.

I walked through a really dark place and came out the other side. I inspired other people to find what help they needed to get out of their dark places. I love hard, and deep and with sometimes reckless abandon, despite all my broken hearts. This is often not appreciated at the time (save for my current partner, a great Scot) but sometimes years after the relationship ended, I had ex’s tell me that they’d never had someone care about their happiness and well being as much as I did and that they’re afraid that they will not find that again.

I am special, and unique. I have dandelion tattoos but keep Kosher because I’m a contridiction like that, and it works for me.

I have epic boobies that only look epic when I want them to. It’s pretty sweet. I try not to use them to get things done, but sometimes (especially with the deck crew), it’s the only way.

I make friends and keep them for as long as I can. I have friends who are 3 generations older than I am and friends who are children. Everytime I got to a new rig, I make a friend.

People remember me, and not only for my awesome blue hair. They remember that I have a good sense of humor and try to make their days brighter because I’m a ray of fucking sunshine (and glitter sometimes).

I think that’s enough for now. I worked up an appetite being this fucking AWESOME.

I was in the top 7% of my class first year of law school, I got the highest grade in my Torts class, I am the Executive Editor for the Editorial Board of my Law Review for 2010-11, I am a gunner in class and every professor knows my name, and I have a fucking photographic memory. I’m Sarah fucking B. Look me up when you need a awesome fucking attorney in a year.

@mcm “Here goes… It ain’t much but it is all I got. My mother told me last weekend that I was the most easily contented person she ever met. I don’t think she meant it as a compliment but I am gonna take it that way.”

McM….this actually means that you are the supremo coolest mofo out there. You have what everyone else is searching for which makes you every kind of miraculous. Use the force wisely great one.

I’m hench- fucking minion. I rewrote four clauses of the Highway Traffic Act that may have saved your life. My research has turned up information that boosted the careers of some politicians you may recognize, and broke the reputations of their opponents.

I can read five modern languages and three dead ones. I play Scrabble in Latin. My doctoral dissertation contains the most thorough treatment of its subject matter ever written, and when it’s published, it will be the definitive book in its small field.

I have encountered bears in the wild three times, backpacked alone through Romania twice, ridden a horse down a mountain like the Man from Snowy River, and fought in a martial arts tournament with steel swords.

And yet, every one of the statements above was incredibly hard to write without qualifiers.

what you’ve done here is gorgeously important. all these amazing people claiming their amazing-ness at a primal level. it’s not just that you provided a space for to grab hold of our collective spirit, it’s that you provided pause enough for us to consider—and believe in—ourselves.

@Lexy – are you kidding? Sewing and Knitting are AWESOME. I have knitted 2 scarves EVER, and it’s hard, so I think I’ve given up on knitting. And I sew a little bit, but I want it to be effortless, like “oh, I just whipped this skirt up last night because I wanted a new one” effortless. Those skills are the bomb, and they ARE cool.

I’m fucking lapidary and I picked that screenname from a David Foster Wallace essay where he talks about polish, because yes, I am POLISHED. I’m smart and empathetic, and I will tie both of those skills together to control your mind (for benevolent purposes only, I promise!). I love my semi-obscure field, I’m a bad-ass teacher, and I can hold a class discussion in the palm of my hand, turning it whatever way I want. I’ve made class after class of students more aware of social justice issues and feminism through art, even the dudes who didn’t want to be. I get better every year at what I do.
At one point, I was one of the top 25 collegiate athletes in my sport. I was inside people’s minds in the pool, and I know from hard work.
I’m congenitally incapable of backing down from a challenge, and mostly I pass those challenges with flying colors. I take standardized tests like nobody’s business–I’ve rocked a successive series of alphabet soup tests (SAT, CSET, GRE) with little prep and little stress.
I’m a great home cook, though WAY too slow and methodical to ever go pro. Once I understand something, I can explain it or teach it to just about anyone. I’m funny and dogs and babies alike love me. My tongue is sharper than a katana, and I can wield it like Uma Thurman slicing through rank after rank of amateurs, but usually I manage to keep it sheathed unless necessary.

Boy, this has been hard to make myself do properly…. I hope someone’s still reading this.

I’m the Bald fucking Soprano! I can find connections between obscure pieces of information that my peers can’t see.

I’m studying my 9th foreign language (most of them dead) and am thinking about taking up a tenth (also dead).

I can read a couple of languages I never learned (French & Spanish).

I can bake pie dough and bread by the feel of it, and invent pretty rocking stir-fries.

I can glance through an undergrad’s paper and tell them where their argument falls apart AND where they mess up their grammar. (The number of times I’ve had them go “B-but you just looked at it! You can’t have read it!”)

I proofread every-damn-thing I see.

I memorize tunes (vocal and recorder) like WOAH. I can also sing along with almost anything I hear (not harmonize, that’s a different talent).

I can pack things into a space you wouldn’t think they’d all fit into.

I can find GREAT presents for anyone whose tastes I know even a little.

Hello, I’m Scia-fucking-trix and I have the most fantastically analytical brain on the planet.

I can read faster than anyone I have ever met or heard of and I retain more information while I’m doing it, too. I can dominate a fucking debate on any subject I remotely care about, either online or in real life, and I can improvise arguments on the fly and come up with a new point about someone else’s in seconds. I can dress my language up in sesquipedalian academicese or flip back to informal takedowns as easily as breathing, and I can whip up a complete tracking sheet on a pending piece of science legislation in less than twenty minutes and make it look professional while I’m at it. I have a fucking gigantic vocabulary, and an even bigger index of precise connotations for obscure words. In fact, I have a national award for my knowledge of Latin roots, and I earned every bit of that sucker.

I’ve forgotten more about dogs than most people will ever know. I’m brilliant at ferreting out healthy people and making healthy relationships. I’m self-aware as all hell and I have no fucking trouble policing my boundaries. I know what I don’t know and what I do and I’m comfortable admitting that. I’m a sophomore in college and I’ve already worked in research, and I start an amazing job in three weeks which I landed by virtue of my awesome ability to remember and reference a shit ton of studies I’d read about and been interested by and communicate that interest to professors.

I own my asexuality and I’m really goddamn good at explaining it to people so they get it. I’m a living, breathing refutation of the idea that romantic relationships are the end-all, be-all of life, and I challenge that assumption everywhere it is safe for me to do so. I’m brave and I’m strong and I stand up for what I believe is right everywhere I can.

(And I’m really glad this came along today, too, because I was just feeling bad about responding to a compliment about my fucking fantastic arguing skills today with a rather awkward “thank you” instead of something more self-effacing this morning. So thank you to Kate Fucking Harding and everyone else who posted here. You’re all awesome people of the highest order.)

I am so surprised at how difficult is its for me to write this! I really am smart and competent. I don’t often say as much!

For example! When I was an undergrad, one of my professors was asked to write an entry for The Oxford Encyclopedia of [Redacted] – but instead he had me write it and put his name on it. All of this time, the thing I liked to tell myself was that it spoke more to his lack of competence than to my abundance of competence, but fuck it.

I make really good art. I have a show coming up this summer, that I’ve written and am producing. I’ve worked on it for five years, and it’s a fucking great show. I’m proud of it. I think I’m awesome for making it, and for figuring out how to put it out in the world.

I am perfectly *fucking* skewed, and my goddamned screen name says it all.

I am quirky as fuck, weird as all get out, and will never be sorry for it ever again. Know why? ‘Cause in addition, I am fucking awesome. I make amazing soup with whatever is in the pantry. I have a fucking amazing memory and can answer pretty much any random question on anything from pop culture to fucking physics and do it with grace, style, and wit.

I am the most supportive person ever. EVER. I can pick anybody up and help them get going again just where they need to go. I am empathetic as fuck and can help others see the other side of things as well. I’ve gotten nothing but fucking A’s so far in my new program at college, and I’m not even 25 yet and already have one fucking degree, and will be done my next program also before being 25 and will have a FUCKING KICK ASS JOB helping to SAVE LIVES after all of this is said and done.

I can skate like a motherfucker and I play awesome defense ’cause I hold my stick left handed and that confuses the fuck out of those trying to get past me. You SHALL NOT PASS.

I am good at pretty much everything I try. If I’m not good, I’m passable. Always on the first try. I am a quick fucking study.

My ass makes grown men (and quite a few women) cry silently to themselves for the good time they will never have with it. :)

Oh, also! I am a fantastic fucking interviewer. I can sit down with someone who’s famously reclusive and reserved and within 10 minutes they’ll be chatting away like we’ve been friends for years. I can walk into an interview where the publicist says “don’t ask him about his family” and within half an hour have the guy telling me about his family willingly, without me even having to probe for it. I am really, really good at reading people and making them feel comfortable and like they can trust me. This is particularly notable because in my non-work life I am incredibly shy! But at work I can totally turn that off and do my job.

As a classic Third Culture kid you can drop me in any city in the world and I’ll be just fine, with a much shorter adjustment period than people would typically need. I’ve lived on 4 continents and counting, I speak at least a little of 5 different languages other than English, and I don’t just cope well with change, I thrive on it. I can read Latin, ride horses, fence, beat any man I know at swimming, and make an awesome Thai curry.

I’m also strong as hell. Within the last two years I nearly lost my beloved cat that I’ve had for 18 years to renal failure, split up with my husband/partner of 15 years, and realised that I have a fairly nasty illness that’s only going to get worse over time. And after all that I did not sit around and mope and feel sorry for myself. I nursed my cat back to health and did some serious research to learn how to keep him healthy, I moved out on my own for the first time in 15 years, and I started a new job. And this is just the beginning.

Those guys who always like to talk about how women are weaker than men? Have clearly never met me, or any of the other women in this thread.

This is kind of a ridiculously specific skill, but I had an awkward conversation the other day where I was trying to both use the fact that I’m good at it but also notbe too egotistical, so I think I need to put it out there.

I’m sheni fucking kay and I can run the best damn university debate tournament you ever went to. I can make the national championships run like clockwork without breaking a sweat. I can have all my banquet plans fall through at a small tournament the day before, make all 50 attendees help prepare their own banquet with food from the grocery store, and have them say it was the best debate banquet they’ve been to. My tournaments are on time, on budget, and an absolute riot.

On top of that, I’m a nationally ranked debate judge, and hey, I can win my fair share of arguments.

I can bake a pumpkin cheesecake that makes angels weep–and it turns out perfectly every fucking time. I can read practically any book in four hours or less. I am an amazing fucking music theorist, even if I am not doing it anymore, and I can teach myself languages. Also, I can fucking remember everything. I spend approximately 30% of my waking hours thinking about Star Trek, and I will never apologize for it. I fucking rock at in-person interviews, and I am kicking my law school’s ass and taking names.

Also, before me, my cat HATED to be picked up and would claw and scratch and hiss if anyone tried. Now, she purrs. That may be my most badass skill.

I’m Kristin fucking C and I have a giant brain that is constantly searching, learning and storing. I collect facts like nobody’s business. Want to know about regulation navy wear for the Golden Age Of Piracy? Why starches thicken liquids? How Brazil nuts grow? What housepaint is made of? Why Irish Sign Language used to have separate dialects for men and women? I can tell you. I can strike up a conversation about obscure and fascinating topics any day of the week and you know what? People who don’t appreciate that can kiss my round ass. They’re boring.

Not only do I have mad research skillz, but I can run a complete legislative history on the most obscure laws in record time — and it will be thorough enough for even the most persnickety Magistrate to rely upon. I get paid to find stuff out, and I’m damn good at it! Not only that, but I write kick-ass book reviews, and I’m one of the most widely recognized names in my field for doing so. I work in one of the most important governmental entities in my country, and even if my job is totally anonymous, my research is the basis for important legal developments that impact people’s daily lives. I’m goddamn proud of making a difference with what I do. It took a lot of difficult education just to get my foot in the door, and now I am not only in the door, but I’m sitting in the window blowing kisses to everyone on the sidewalk below.

I am Claire fucking Deloony and I am a fucking writer. (Literally. I’m working on some erotica.) I won awards as a kid, I wrote professionally for years, and now that I am kicking ass at a non-writing profession I am trying my hand at fiction. And I’m really good! And getting better, so watch out, Pulitzer committee, I’m coming to getcha.

I am killed by fucking llamas (hee!) and I am really, really good at academic-type shit. I kick school’s ass with minimal effort, and that’s awesome. Standardized tests are like fish in a barrel. I took 8 years of Latin, got a gold medal on the National Latin Exam every year in high school, and can still read it well, and can understand a lot of Italian. I can pick up almost any software program just by messing with it briefly. I’ve learned how to program in both html and VBA for work with no formal training, and am quite functional now in both. In college I edited a couple of books for professors who said that I was better than most professional editors. I just finished my first semester of MLIS grad school, going a bit over half-time while working full-time, and I evidently still have school skillz. And I am going to make a badass reference librarian, because if a piece of information exists, I can find it. Both my Google and standard research skills are utterly ridiculous already, and once I learn about all the obscure and fancy reference sources I will be an unstoppable fact-finding machine.

Also, I am really good at both making and fixing stuff; I sew well, and do a lot of other crafts satisfactorily. I can fix the hell out of broken zippers, and do so for Cinderella’s Closet. I fearlessly muck about in the guts of computers (I tried motherboard soldering not too long ago, ffs), and am a world-class assembler of furniture. I don’t cook elaborately that often, but when I do, I’m good. Especially at grilling steaks; I can make 6 bucks worth of t-bone from Kroger taste better than anything you can get in a restaurant. Also, I have a truly spectacular rack, to the point that my lack of augmentation has been questioned. A lot.

It’s been said that I have a calming effect on people, and I have in fact helped friends through major and minor trauma and stress frequently; I think I balance empathy and practical help and advice well. I am a good mom to my kitties. I also have really, really good taste, in clothes and other stuff too. When it comes to trying to intimidate me or fuck with my loved ones, do not start with me; you will not win. I love dance, and am actually pretty good at it. I can sing spontaneous harmony with anyone. My mind is firmly in the gutter at all times and I crack myself up on a regular basis, and sometimes other people too.

I think my biggest fucking accomplishment, though, is finally admitting to myself that I fucked up my life promptly and royally after college and getting the hell out of a severely mentally abusive relationship. It was the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done.

(Kate, this was an awesome post and all y’all are making me smile with your continued awesomeness.
Also, this: believing that only other people had the authority to determine whether I was good or bad, pretty or unpretty, funny or unfunny, etc. really hit me because I’m still struggling with it. It’s like my Critical Inner Voice Bear [tm la niebla’s friend] is a rational, scientific bear, saying, no, you can’t just say you’re badass because you think you are, you need independent empirical eeeeevidence. Damn bear. )

I am B-FUCKING-13 (or, in real life, [redacted] FUCKING [redacted]), and I am a fucking awesome friend. I am the friend that legends of friendship are made of; I fucking rock at platonic love. Want to celebrate and talk about how awesome you are, friend…I am totally there. Sad? Scared? Sick? In the hospital unexpectedly in the middle of my work/school week revealing devastating information to me in the ER…I am totally there by your side. I am supportive, calm, collected, and willing to go to bat for you. I am seriously the kind of friend everyone should want.

I am also fucking smart. I fucking rock my master’s program, and I just got into several highly thought of PhD programs even when there were naysayers who thought I couldn’t/shouldn’t. Since I (perhaps unfortunately) rock at procrastinating, I also (luckily) am outstanding at pumping out A level work in very short periods of time. I am insightful and thoughtful.

I also fucking rock at speaking my mind. I want to be heard, and I fucking believe that I should be.

Shapelings are so awesome! I am amazed (but not surprised) by how many people are at the top of their fields. I have commented here before under a different name, but someone else on the internetz is using it so I switched!

I am Neuro-fucking-JS, and I am fucking talented in Psychology–all of it–especially in my area. I fully expect to be the success story all of my professors talk about in the future.

I am also an awesome pipette-r and always have been. I consistently draw an accuracy of .9999 and sometimes a .99999 which is pretty freaking accurate.

I graduated from a 4-year program in University in three years at age 20, magna cum laude, while barely studying, belonging to and co-chairing clubs, working a customer service job, and volunteering in labs.

Speaking of customer service, I am wonderful with harried people who need help from a pleasant, polite, friendly person. I talk calmly, work quickly, and make everyone feel that they are getting my full attention. I tell people what they don’t want to hear without them yelling at anyone, and if they are already yelling by the time I get to them I can calm them down. Even though I’m not in customer service anymore, this comes in really handy in my current position.

I’m a good public speaker. My palms sweat and I obsessively twirl my hair and pace but nobody notices because they are too interested in what I’m saying.

And as I get older I find myself scared but speaking up anyway. Right now I’m scared I’ll post this and people will tell me I’m a lying arrogant bitch even though I am anonymous-person-on-the-internet and know they’re wrong, but damnit I’m posting it anyway, and I think that’s awesome.

Well, Sarah, that’s because what Isua fails to mention is that she is also FUCKING HILARIOUS. We both only survived grad school because of each other’s complete awesomeness. Ours was an office of maximal fucking awesome hotness.

Wait wait… someone killed a scorpion with their bare hands?? Okay, that doesn’t seem to have earned any remarks, but it might actually win the thread.

Also also, totally love all you guys. This thread is like Feminist Win #1. It makes me warm and fuzzy and proud.

Oh my god did I not mention that I’m an incredibly awesome chemist? You guys, that is, in fact, the case. I can run a delicate and intricate (and highly dangerous) chemical procedure that takes months to do, to measure something on the order of *femtograms*, and get spectacular results on every single sample. While in a lab built for chemistry that would destroy my samples if someone breathed near my fume hood the wrong way. For serious. You do not want to fucking compete with my trace element clean lab chemistry skills.

As is often the case with chemists, I’m also a great cook! And I knit and crochet and make up knitting and crochet designs in my head and taught myself to crochet by making thread doilies and carve awesome stamps and OMG, reading all your comments made me realize all the stuff I forgot about myself!

I’m an immunology grad student. I’m currently the world expert on my topic. As far as I know, I’m the only one doing this work (not going to specify for anonymity purposes). And I’m doing it well.

I can sing. I don’t have professional training, but when I open my mouth and sing in front of an audience, perfect strangers ask me where I trained. I can sight-sing and have had to do so in front of audiences due to last-minute changes. I did it and did it well.

I can cook/bake/gluten-free bake. I’m good at it. I’m legendary for cookie-baking in my lab. And I can feed myself and my husband home-cooked food- usually from scratch- every night, even as a busy student. (Granted, this is out of necessity due to the whole celiac-disease-not-trusting-takeout thing, but it tastes a hell of a lot better too.)

I am really good at making decisions. I don’t need to consult a quorum of my peers, I don’t need to dither for weeks. I lay out the options, lay out the info, and make my choice. It works. I know myself.

I am financially responsible. I do the household bills and banking. I’ve gotten things so that our only debt is the mortgage. I’m organized, careful, and prompt.

I’m Lisa fucking Soderlund. I’m an artist, and I’m proud of what I do. I create collages using ripped magazine pages. I paint acrylic paintings with a spork. And I draw some wonderful pastel nudes on hymn pages that speak to my tortured-by-patriarchy-goddess-yearning-to-emerge soul.

I’m A Fucking Sarah and I’m so staggeringly intelligent the vast majority of my teachers never had any idea what to do with me in school, because I didn’t just get the right answers, you see, I completely rewrote the questions, without even MEANING to, without even realizing I was doing it, and as a result could never limit my thinking to the terms of most school assignments. At the time I thought it was a problem with me, but that was incorrect, as it turns out. I’ve never met a better song parodist than myself, and I’m better at writing song parodies than some who get paid to do it: I can out-parodize Capitol Steps and Forbidden Broadway without breaking a sweat. I deep-end on obscure interests for a few weeks to few months, because after that time I’ve learned most of what I’ll ever find interesting on the topic. When I study philosophy I keep HGTV on in the background to keep from getting bored. I got nearly perfect GRE scores. When I see a therapist, without even trying, I intuit and learn the theory behind their modality within a few weeks… to the point that I cause them to question the model’s assumptions and inconsistencies. I cook without recipes.

This is the first post of yours I’ve ever read and I LOVE IT! I’m Celeste fucking Morgan and I’m damn smart. I don’t have any one thing I excel at; it’s more of a jack-of-all-trades kind of smart. If someone is willing to teach me something, I can pick it up and master it. I’ve done framing, tech support, real estate taxes, mapping property legal descriptions and now I’m doing federal financial aid. In every job I’ve had, I’ve become the go-to person for the department because I just fucking GET IT.

I am Mary fucking Alice (you thought MA stood for most awesome, right?) I am a damn good friend, for one thing, I know how to be there for those who have been there for me and I don’t let them down. I have two adult students I am tutoring English to, and I am proud of what a great teacher I am and the difference I am making in their lives. I am doing this as a volunteer, and I didn’t give it up even though I am back at school now and very busy. I am a great writer, and am good at articulting my viewpoint about many things. I think I do a good job at interjecting my passion about a topic while being logical and recognizing other viewpoints when they have some validity.

I am a wonderful singer, and I know a lot about music. People come to me with a music question because they thought…oh MA would know the answer to that. I appreciate great art and support it.

I am missing a chromosome and I am proud that I use the challenges I have encountered to have more empathy for others.

And most importantly, I am confident I will have a lot more to add to this list if you catch me in 10 years.

I’m Nicole fucking viajera (real last name not used online), and I’m fucking good at coming up w/ exciting research and writing grants. I’ve brought in $40,000 of research funding so far in the 5 years of my PhD, in a field that’s not exactly known for bringing in lots of money. Most other students in my field are thrilled if they bring in a couple thou.

I’m also pretty fucking good at teaching and mentoring students.

In my personal life, I’m a damn good cook, and a good friend – I take good care of those I care about.

I am Jeliza Fucking Patterson and I can make Photoshop sit up, beg and do tricks of almost anything you’d ever want it to do to a photograph. I can do it *fast*, and I can teach other people how to do it, too.
Give me a work crisis, and I’ll have a Plan A, B and C ready for you in less than 15 minutes.

I am Maevele Fucking Straw. I am smarter than my accomplishments would lead one to believe. I can motherfucking sing. I can fix my own laptop, even if it takes duct tape. I make really smart kids, and trust them and myself to educate them. I’m fucking fantastic at living through depression. I’m amazing at not giving a shit about what I am bad at. I’m an information sponge. I can, in a pinch, organize disorganized public events of a sort. I can dance. I write poetry and songs that I fucking like, even if no one else does.

so i don’t think i’ve posted here before, but i have read, um, every single post on this blog. so i guess i have the right to comment. also, i have read every single comment in this thread (been at it for an hour!) so if you were a later commenter wondering if you got read–you did, and you had someone in awe of you. i am amazed by everyone here, and have been fighting back tears. really.

this is hard because i’m so used to thinking that whatever i do must be something that everyone can do and therefore equals no big deal but fuck it:

i’m striver fucking girl, and i’m damn smart. i go to one of the top 3 law schools in the country. i got into that law school even before i got my prestigious post-grad fellowship after graduating summa cum laude (with straight As and two majors) from my university. i’m currently rocking the shit out of law school, having aced all but two classes in the past 3 semesters. i helped organize a major international legal conference. next year i’m going to be helping run a journal with about 150 people directly under my supervision. my bluebooking skills are fucking epic; i can tell at a glance if a comma is improperly italicized.

i speak spanish. i’ve lived and worked in three latin american countries, and i’m only 25. i speak spanish so well that native speakers identify my accent as chilean. i’m not chilean. i’m learning another language right now in my spare time (ha).

i am responsible and i get shit done. if you need something done well? you come to me. i don’t flake. doing shit well is my fucking baseline. if i actually have time to focus on helping you with your shit? i will rock your socks right the fuck off.

i’m using my mad skills to build a career doing what i love, and when the little voice in my head tells me i’ll never get funding to start that career because no one would hire me when there are so many awesome people applying? FUCK. THAT. NOISE. i am that awesome person.

I am Kath Fucking Read. I’m bloody funny, I can make people laugh and myself laugh even when I feel like crap, and I don’t mean at me, I mean with me. I am articulate and passionate. I have a brain and am not afraid to use it. I am full of love that I am not afraid to show. I’m a fucking fantastic people person. I take no shit from anyone, and will stand up for people that I care about or who I believe need a helping hand. And I have magnificent tits.

I’m Elissa fucking Bee, and I’m an amazing actress. I really listen to people onstage. I’ve made an entire roomful of people and a cynical acting teacher cry doing the hardest scene in The Seagull. I have a gift for comedy and can charm the pants off an audience.
I’m a phenomenal singer. People close their eyes and smile or get tears in their eyes when they listen to me sing. I’m best in musical theatre and folk, but I’ve also been getting better at opera. I’m an amazing musician, too—I play the bassoon as well as some conservatory students and I never even practice. I’m the best musician in my college a cappella group, and I’m only a freshman.
I’m fucking smart, too, which is something I rarely get credit for—I rocked my SATs, and have often been told that I should be an English major because of the strength of my writing. I read the New York Times, the New Yorker, and shittons of blogs like this regularly. I’m articulate and an excellent debater.
People really like me. I am unfailingly kind and considerate of every human being I encounter in my life. I can get along with any human being on this planet because I’m funny, charming, and a really great listener. I’m an incredibly loyal friend, which leads me to what I’m proudest of:
I saved my best friend’s life. He was abroad, incredibly depressed and suicidal, and didn’t talk to anyone but me about how he was feeling. I talked to him on Skype for five hours every day, made him call a suicide hotline, and eventually made the decision to call his parents and tell them. I talked to him for hours every day after that for two months, convincing him why he deserved to live, and eventually convinced him to come home. He did, and he’s doing amazingly well. He’s told me several times that he wouldn’t be here without me; we’re also very, very much in love. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.
I’m Elissa fucking Bee, and I’m AMAZING!

(Long-time reader, first-time commenter). This was such an amazing thread, and so exactly what I needed to read. It’s so great to hear about all of you out there in the world being awesome and doing awesome things!

I am a fucking awesome teen librarian. I’ve never been to library school, but I passionately love teen literature and am great at recommending books to people. I write a fucking awesome book review column for our branch library’s blog. I wrote a proposal that I won a $9,000 fucking grant for, and am keeping the project on track in addition to all my regular fucking work. If a kid says, “I hate reading and I dare you to find me a book that I will like,” I can find that kid a book that s/he will like. When I was a school librarian, I went the extra mile and built a fucking awesome collection with a tiny fucking budget.

I am fucking great at academics; I got a full ride to undergrad and then I graduated magna cum laude and received honors from the honors program. I had a 3.7 GPA in graduate school and a fucking good master’s thesis, even though I experienced a major depression half-way through the program. I was a fucking great tutor when I was tutoring; I love one-on-one interaction and am fucking great at explaining stuff. I am also a fucking good poet; I can write poems that are deemed “publishable quality” by academics, but that also speak to people who say that they don’t normally relate to poetry much.

I know a fucking lot about various forms of alternative education, and am currently taking actually concrete fucking steps to take that knowledge beyond the realm of theory, by volunteering at a local Democratic school.

I have fucking learned how to compensate well for my weaknesses in areas like organization.

I live in a major city, I walk home alone from public transportation at night, and I fucking refuse to live in fear.

i am diana fucking turken. i have never posted a single comment on a website, and i am glad that this one is my first. i love this blog- also the glorious tigerbeatdown for many reasons but mostly for the humor, because a crucial aspect of my feminism is laughing at the ridiculous shit i see on a daily basis. as for myself, i am a fantastic poet. i have been writing since i was in the fifth grade and i am damn good. in fact, when someone politely asks to read something of mine i say sure why the hell not and hand it over because i am not shy about it. i can also speak in iambic pentameter at will (usually while drinking) and can read old english. for fun, next time someone tries to ‘mansplain’ something, correct their grammar. its always a good time. i am very happy to be in the company of all you fucking awesome women!

Mcm, and anyone else feeling they don’t have anything to say in this thread: I will bet you $100 that over the course of the next week you will notice at least three things you are awesome at, and you will say, “Oh, I wish I’d put that in my post.”

I’m Rayne Fucking Hollis and I’m good at languages (*fistbumps notthemarimba*). When I was a volunteer tutor in high school, my Spanish teacher had me tutor not just students in levels below me but also my own classmates, some of whom had started taking Spanish years before I did. My Italian teacher told me I got the highest score in the class on our midterm. My French teacher said I was one of the best students he’d had in fifteen years of teaching. (Yeah, my linguistic repertoire is very Romance-heavy. I’m working on that.) Most of the language teachers I’ve had (and by now I’ve had quite a few) have told me something to the effect that I’m impressive, language-wise, and by this point I just say thank you and nod. There are times I’ve felt guilty, like I should try to be more self-effacing or at least pretend to look more surprised, but you know what? It’s not surprising anymore. I’ve been studying languages since I was eleven, and I now understand when to use the Italian pluperfect subjunctive, imperfect subjunctive, present perfect subjunctive, and present subjunctive, and I am a geek who LOVES HER MOTHERFUCKING INFLECTIONAL PARADIGMS, and I know I’m good at them, too. And it feels a little scary but also kind of awesome to admit that. And it also feels awesome to be in the cyber-company of all the people here with all their amazing skills, too. I think whenever I’m feeling incompetent and full of fail, I’ll come back to reread this post.

I am Zaftig Fucking Zeitgeist, and I can write. I wrote a FA themed blog post so fucking awesome that it has been reblogged and linked all over the Internet. It was even linked to by fucking Feministing, and over 1000 people read it. Also, I can make a vegan cheesecake that even hardened omnivores rave about.

I have endured years of emotional abuse, from family and peers alike, years of internal self-loathing to the depths of depression, suicidal thoughts, and being terrified and resigned to the idea that I was a worthless sack of nothing, the universe’s dead end, a joke.

I had to live with a father who outright told me that I should kill myself if I’m not doing enough to contribute back to society (in his eyes), yell at me for sobbing hysterically to “GROW UP!”, then later deny the whole thing; all while in the process of booting me onto the streets, knowing that I’d likely end up homeless (And I would’ve, too, if not for some VERY good friends, whom I love dearly).

And I am Lindsay Fucking B., awesome because I came out the other side of all of that learning to love myself, to forgive my family for being human, and move into being an independent, realized human being with talents and skills that I’m learning to develop and hone. Finally, I’m free, and that’s the most awesome thing to me.

This is amazing. For whatever reason, I’ve been reading through these comments for an hour and I have been crying most of that time. Because we don’t do this – “we” being any people who have been silenced or told we don’t matter – we don’t stand up and say “This is who I am and who I am rules.”

I am an amazing career counselor, I’m a damn good professor, and I’m an amazing academic. I help people get jobs in the middle of the biggest economic depression since the Great One, I have fantastic advice, and I know my way around theory. I can apply and do a quick dance with theory to make it my own until I have turned it on its head. And that is what I will eventually do with my PhD.

I am Krista fucking Benson and I’m a fantastic teacher, mentor, and friend. And I rule.

I am Four-fucking-Eyes, and I am ridiculously good at my job. I have many, many earrings, and with them I construct symbolic tableaux every day. I know the lyrics to “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition” and “Louie Louie.” I enthrall cranky infants using nothing but my JAZZ HANDS. My gravy is family legend. I live in my happy place.

I’m Sans fucking Noblesse, I speak three languages fluently, two more really well, I can read Latin and Greek and I’m going to stop feeling embarassed about it right fucking now. And I won’t ever shrug apologetically again when I announce my intention of learning a couple more, because clearly this is what I’m fucking good at.

I love this thread so fucking much. Not that I ever had any doubt that SP commenters were awesome, but man, never before in my life have I seen this many women stand up and say ‘hey, this is my fucking name, and I’m really fucking great’. It’s excellent, I’m all starry-eyed.

I am Lynni-fucking-a, and I can’t even tell you how badly I needed this thread this week.

As of yesterday, having passed my fucking qualifying exam, I am officially accepted as a PhD candidate in computer fucking engineering at one of the top three schools in the world for that discipline. I am not here by accident, I worked my ass off to get here, and I am rocking my program.

The first academic paper I ever wrote was published in the top conference in the world for its subject. I have another paper under submission, and I am supposed to say that I don’t know what will happen and vagaries of the process and it’s not that great and blah-de-blah, but you know what? When the results come back next week my fucking paper is going to be fucking accepted because it *is* great.

I am straddling three different disciplines, and I am tired of apologizing for that fact.

In my first semester back at school after four years off, I got the highest grade out of 65 people in what’s generally acknowledged as the hardest class in my area at the university.

I can professionally copy edit any piece of writing by anyone at any time and make it clearer, more consistent and grammatically correct.

They have yet to invent a standardized test, or really any written exam at all, that I cannot ace with a reasonable amount of preparation.

And I do all this while being a great wife to my loving, supportive, works-from-home-and-keeps-my-house-running husband (fuck you, traditional gender roles) and a good daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece and friend.

I have needed to say these things for a long fucking time. Thank you, Kate!

Um… [taps politely on the shoulder] Excuse me, Your Awesomeness Queen Fucking Bookwench? But in the midst of all your awesome duties, might you also be fucking awesome at giving an internet acquaintance suggestion on how to get a democratic school started? Because omg I want one in our city so so so so bad!!! teenage radio star at gee male daught calm.

Can I also say how fucking awesome it is to see so many college women and other young women on this thread? I don’t know about you guys, but when I was in college in the 90s I spent a LOT of time hiding my light under a bushel. I actually remember saying that making Phi Beta Kappa wasn’t a big deal because there was so much grade inflation in my major and anyway, I just had lots of time to study because I wasn’t beautiful and popular. UGH!

Oh, and extra props for Sarah B above for owning the “gunner” label. I spoke three times in law school other than the times I was called on, and often felt like I needed to sit on my hands so they wouldn’t fly into the air (usually when some guy was making a lengthy point that I disagreed with). I wish I’d had a classmate like you! Good luck in your legal career – you’ll kick ass!

I read this post 2 days ago, and while I have been cogitating my inner voice has become Samual Jackson screaming at me about how awesome I am. Thank you for that.

I am Jenny Fucking Felps and I rock, for real. I am the breadwinner and the mommy. I bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, eat it, and lick my fingers. I competently juggle a million things at work and raise a great son while being a great wife.

I am covered in tattoos of fat ladies (posted about this before). By rocking sexy fat girl tattoos and being a sexy fat girl, I give all the women I meet permission to feel sexy and hot, if only for a second. And they remind me never to forget who I really am.

So many of us have survived so much. I think of all the commenters here as my friends. You are all invited over for an epic Game Night. Bring all the food you specialize in and I will supply the booze. Lots and lots of booze.

I have been in such a bad place the past two weeks. After reading this post, Sam Jackson has vanquished the bullshit low self esteem hater voice in my head. Now, every negative thought is met with an internal, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!! SHUT UP MOTHERFUCKER!!”.

The best thing about my inner voice is that I can gift it over and over, while keeping it. So I’m giving to you. It is for real awesome. Enjoy it (WITH YOUR BAD SELF!).

I’m so loving this post. You folks are incredible. So incredible. I’m linking this post and Sady’s everywhere I go.

I’m Dwyn Fucking Asher and I’m fucking awesome. I’m an incredible photographer and I am kicking ass in my photo program. My first solo show was fucking gorgeous. Teachers like and respect me. At my crit review yesterday? The teacher invited me to do an independent study with her because she thinks I’m fucking awesome too. I know my stuff. I rock at classes and I love what I do. I’m going to be super sucessful at being a photographer because you know what? I’m Dwyn Fucking Asher and I kick ass.

I’m Allie Fucking Cat, and I am an excellent public speaker. You want things talked about in public, I’m your girl. Big crowd, small crowd, prepared text, off the cuff, years to prep, start talking now… that’s what I can do.

I also am a very good learner. You want me to create a website? great! I’ll learn html tonight and have it up for you tomorrow.

I don’t say these things outloud, of course… but you won’t tell will you?

@Lisa Soderlund – Yup. Mormon. And not one of those wicked-leaning city Mormons, either. ;o) I was raised in a very small town in the middle of nowhere where the Mormons are ULTRA-righteous and I was related in some way or other to every. single. one. You?

I write maintenance manuals that tell the United Fucking States Navy how to repair their helicopters. I do it on a two fucking year associates degree in history because I can learn any fucking thing I set my mind to.

Oh… and the naval forces of Greece, Australia, China, Singapore, Thailand, and goddamn Turkey listen up as well.

I am a woman thriving in a man’s world and they all take fucking note because I am in my element.

My lasagna is better than your mother’s. I can navigate the entire United States with a simple map and never get lost. I read and underfuckingstand everything I put my hands on. And if you are my friend I am fiercly loyal to death. I’ve got your back – always.

I am Fermina Fucking Daza.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there were some fabulous shoes on sale at Bloomies.

Gudbuytjane: Thank you. I will remember that. I’m privileged to not be familiar with that stereotype, so I’m glad to know to watch for it.

Mary Sue: Your cockadoodle do comment made me laugh SO hard.

Snarkysmachine: AGREED.

Sleepydumping: I KNOW. Loving the librarian love.

Everyone: Damn, we rock.

I also once moved to a city where I had no friends, few acquaintances, relatives that I didn’t know well, and which was 80% a language I speak only in a very basic way, because I was depressed and needed a change of life. I bought a plane ticket, found a sublet online, and just WENT. When I returned home three months later to finish my fourth year of university, I had made friends that two years later are still some of the most important people in my life. I did things I never thought I would do, ate strange foods, walked home from parties at four in the morning, and proved to myself that I can make it alone on my sheer fabulosity. Now these friends are offering me places to live when I return to do my Masters there this fall, I have a standing invitation to visit another who’s now in NYC, and I get letters from another all the way in Busan South Korea. Fuck, I am AWESOME.

@Anomic Entropy. I was raised Mormon from birth by two parents who were born and raised and married at 19 in UT. We moved to MT when I was 6 so I wasn’t related to every Mormon but was raised in a strictly Mormon household. It’s been quite the journey to finally recognize the damage done to me–to ALL Mormon women–being taught from a very young age that women have one valid role in life to fill if they want to be worthy of man’s/God’s/anyone’s esteem. Leaving Mormonism and blogging about the journey was hugely liberating to me. I found my voice! Once I finally allowed myself to question patriarchy and the things I’d been taught there, I was able to question ALL the damaging things I was putting up with in an effort to be a “good woman.” No more.

I’m super late, but I wanted to get in on this thread because BRAGGING IS FUN.

I’m M. Fucking LeBlanc and I am completely kick-ass in every way. I can pound out a blog post in thirty minutes that will have people talking for a week. I am funny. I can talk like nobody’s business–I immediately make people comfortable because I am really good at talking. I can speak in public on two minutes’ notice, I am really good at arguing, so good that people fear me.

I am an amazing lawyer. I’m really good at listening to my clients and understanding what the fuck their actual problem is, instead of imposing my personal agenda on them. I write extremely concise and persuasive pleadings. I am good at taking charge and figuring out how to Get Shit Done, which is the most important thing that lawyers do. I end up taking charge in meetings where all the lawyers are older and more experienced than me, because I am a natural leader.

I am so awesome that I could probably go on for 2,000 words about how awesome I am. I have a singing voice so good that when people hear it they are shocked and tell me to drop everything and pursue a music career. I have a gloriously joyful disposition, and bring joy to people around me just by being myself and conveying the delight I take in living in the world.

All of this, plus (and I haven’t seen anyone mention this, go ‘head on, ladies!) I am hot. Like, bonafide sexy. And a MAJOR FATTIE.

I am as smart as all get out, and have brains bigger than my ass. I have a big ass.

I recently left a well-paid job I hated to write and edit for a living. I can turn badly written prose into clear, understandable English. I automatically check everything I read for spelling and grammar, and only my sweet nature stops me from writing to certain newspapers in the UK to upbraid them for it (I’m looking at you, Guardian).

I raised over £1m on my own one year for one of the charities I have worked for, and have raised much more as a team member at 2 charities. I can write you a letter that’ll have you reaching for your chequebook to make a donation. I can tell you who on your database is most likely to give to you again, and how much, and what to say to them to get them to do so.

I’ve recently started a creative writing course and found out that I’m damn good at it. I am going to be a published author and/or poet in the not too distant future.

I am a decent human being. I’m warm and generous and I make people laugh. I encourage and support my friends as much as I can. And despite having gone through some shitty times, I live without bitterness. Life is beautiful.

I jumped out of a plane from 10,000 feet even though I am terrified of heights. It was awesome, and one of these days I’ll do it again.

I own my opinions and I have no problem defending them. I believe honesty is more important than popularity. I am true to myself as much as I can be. I am learning about my privilege and my prejudices and trying to be a better human being.

I am a champion curser and my current favourite swearword is ‘fuckadoodledoo’.

I am MarciafuckingJane, and it feels damn good to write this stuff down. I am awesome.

I’m gene fucking vieve, and I’m a fan-fucking-tastic copy editor. I can copyedit the shit out of anything, using any style guide, quickly and efficiently and mind-blowingly well. I can diagram sentences and analyze syntax like it’s my job (it kinda actually is), and I am seriously so proud of that.

I also make the best muffins anyone has ever tasted, and the best part is that they’re vegan (I’ve had many omnivores attest to their superiority).

I am Crafty Fucking Luna, and I am super creative and artistic in my spare time. In my real life job, I am awesome at helping the kids in my after school class with their problems, in fact I am so smart, insightful, honest, respectful and helpful that they would rather talk to me than the actual school counselor. I am awesome because I never forgot what it was like to be in 4th grade, I don’t talk down to them, I listen to them and take their problems as seriously as I do my own, and I tell them the things I wish someone had told me at that age. They don’t always like what I have to say, but they trust me and they know that I care about them. I am also really funny, fun to be around, good at organizing, and a good problem solver.

Oooh, this is fun! I never comment here, and I’m late, but I’d love to get in on this. I’m Courtney Fucking Bolt, and I am awesome. I’m ridiculously logical, my spelling and grammar skills could make an English teacher jealous, I can sing quite well, I play volleyball and softball very well, and I’m hilarious. I’ve always been intelligent, and I’ve never seen any reason to pretend that I am not, even if it makes people think I’m a bitch. I think more people should be able to say the good about themselves without feeling like they are doing something they shouldn’t. Most people see no harm in talking themselves down, but without also being able to talk about what they like about themselves, they are not able to have a balanced view of who they are. I have several friends that need to read this post, because it makes me sad to see them constantly talking negatively about themselves without being able to admit their positive aspects. It doesn’t seem healthy.

Anyway, I’ll get back to talking about myself. I have absolutely gorgeous hair, awesome boobs, fantastic Photoshop skills, and a large amount of common sense. I have manners, I’m considerate, I can accurately analyze people’s actions and figure out their motives and reasons, I make a delicious broccoli casserole, I can read well over five hundred words per minute, I can make anyone like me if I put enough effort into it, I’m easy to deal with without being a pushover, and I am very talented at putting together attractive clothing and makeup looks for almost everyone I know.

I’m Jay-fucking-Von:
I know visual art, instinctually, I can talk and talk about a work of art, and make hand gestures.
I talk in class despite being stunk-eyed because I’m making damn good points.
I know more about puppet theory than most people.
I’ve done stand up comedy and made people laugh.
I’m really good at editing, like seriously.
People I admire admire me in return.

@Fattatgirl: thanks for the gift. I got SLJ howlin’ about muthafuckin’ SNAKES on a muthafuckin’ PLANE in my head right now, but it’s doin’ the trick.

AND I would like to mention what an awesome feminist wife I am. Told Mr Phledge about this thread–his upbringing gave him very poor self-esteem, and I thought he would benefit from having a Samuel L Jackson voice in his head–and he was all, “Well, I think diminishing your accomplishments is a Calvinistic trait, not just something women do.” Did I erupt? Did I agree? Did I just STFU? Oh no I did not. I said, “Well, yeah, there’s a baseline level of modesty that many people have in Western society that compels us not to toot our own horns, but then women have an added level of punishment for not being modest and demure and unassuming. So I don’t disagree with you, and I know you have your own familial issues about being proud, but women definitely get additional handicap for ‘glorifying’ themselves.” He said he’d start listening to Samuel L Jackson in his head.

@ White Lady – I relate to your first paragraph. I seriously feel like I should be tooting my horn more about my medical problems and how I’ve dealt with them, but I kinda want someone to be impressed with my other accomplishments and not know and then shock the hell out of them, y’know? But yeah it’s not f-ing easy growing up with parents being told by the doctors when you were born that all this horrible crap was going to happen, it shapes my life still.

I may not have pulled them from a burning building but I rescued four kittens today. I’m really good at that, I’ve done it seventy-four times. (ahem, you could view our latest finds at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Norwalk-CT/Roof-Rabbit-Rescue/100996169944500?ref=ts. They’ll be available for adoption in about eight weeks, provided they test negative for feline AIDS and leukemia; longer if we have to re-test.)

I am fucking BRILLIANT at languages. I speak a second language, and I do not have an accent. I can pick up a phrase in a language otherwise unfamiliar to me with very little repetition or practice. I also pronounce it correctly without having to work on it. I’ve lost count of how many languages I can at least say some word or phrase in (it’s more than 20). I can read in four or five more, and I can read archaic forms of my native language, second language, and about three other related languages.

I can do MATHS, people. And Science. And History. I downloaded 26 different courses from MIT’s online courseware (including calculus, physics, philosophy, history, economics and several in linguistics) and I can and will finish them ALL.

I can pretty much do anything I put my hand to. In my house I am tech support, maintenance, financial planner, acquisitions manager.

I’m saha-fucking-rial – i can speak 3 languages and am learning 2 more, I write kick ass fiction, remember song lyrics after 3 listens and never forget them even after 20 years, I make a mean omlette, I taught myself to reverse engineer CSS scripting and php so i wouldn’t have to rely on tech support, i can remember whole converstaions word for word, I can sing, knit crochet and take cool photos, I can speed read…

And I can sing/lipsynch the whole of the ‘Phantom of the Opera’ original London Cast recording from start to finish including the start dialogue

Wow. Everyone here rocks so much. It’s harder than I thought to say how awesome I am, but here goes.

I am Lindsay fucking Jones. I took my first university classes at 14, one of them an upper level writing course, and aced both of them. That same year I was diagnosed with epilepsy; I had and have at least 10 seizures a day. I take meds that blow other people out of the water with how much they dull the mind and screw up the memory. And you know what? I’m getting my fucking degree in environmental science. I passed calculus while taking benzodiazepines and anticonvulsants. I rock biology so hard that I got a 5 on my AP exam back in the day and hardly set foot in the classroom because of the seizures. I studied at home. I can discuss neurology with my friends who are in medical school and awe them with my knowledge.

I can bake like you wouldn’t believe. I make springerle every Christmas, and if you’ve ever tried to make springerle, you know that that is hardcore baking. I can make a five layer torte, cover it with chocolate ganache, and it will be the most delicious goddamn torte ever. I can bake bread and other yeasty things.

I can write both creatively and academically, and I will learn how to write professionally. I write in text-based RPGs and awe the other players with my abilities. I can pound out a short essay in two nights, a long research essay in two weeks, and get A’s on both.

I am a natural speedreader. To see words is to read them. I am the person you want in the car when you are looking for the sign or address of an unfamiliar destination. I can finish a medium-sized novel in one night and go looking for more.

I was in the spelling bee every year from 5th grade to 8th grade, and I rocked so hard that the other competitors at my school complained that they might as well not even enter. The only reason I didn’t go to nationals is because the spelling bee was an amusing hobby, and I never studied for it much. My spelling is still 99% perfect, and I am the spellchecker for my family and friends.

And I have fucking gorgeous nails. The kind of gorgeous where people ask me if they’re natural. Damn straight they’re natural, and you see that perfect nail polish? I did it myself. See the nail art? I did that as well. I can make other people’s nails gorgeous too, and no matter what color or finish your heart desires, I have it in my collection. Well, not so much in the nudes or French manicure type sheers. That perfect shade of teal or pink or blue to match your outfit, though? I’ve got it. Glitter, duochrome, creme, shimmer, color change? I’ve got it. And I will share the joy.

I am a kick-ass knitter. I can read charts, knit intarsia, fair isle and lace, and I can knock a pair of socks out of the damn park. I am also very generous in that I give away a lot of this kick-ass knitting to friends and family.

Multi-tasking is my best work skill. Need four things done well, RIGHT NOW? I’m your girl. I can type an email, answer a question and file papers all at the same time, usually while on the phone.

I have a very agile mind. I go from A, to G, then back to C, then over to N, then to B. It’s never dull. Other people don’t always get my reasoning, but it makes perfect sense to me, and I find out things that other people never do.

I’m funny, dammit! Even in the darkest moments, I can and do find humor. I love absurdity and truly enjoy pointing it out at every opportunity.

I have a very soft heart, especially for animals. I want to save them all. Abuse and neglect saddens and sickens me. I put my money where my mouth is and volunteer at an animal shelter.

I can knock your damn socks off when I sing a Patsy Cline song, or really just about anything country. My version of “You Don’t Know Me” will make you weep.

Thank you so much! You should have been in my Constitution Law class when we got to Women’s rights. I was emotionally drained at the end of each class and the only woman in the class willing to stand up to the dudes.

I am a fucking champion sock knitter. Seamless toe-ups with a full heel gusset on one single fucking needle? No Problem. I am that good.

And in the kitchen? Dude, I’m practically magical. I can make cheese souffle, and I got it right the fist time I tried. Same with French macarons, chocolate mousse, and creme brulee. I make a paella that would make you weep with joy. I bake artisinal breads just for fun. I joke that my husband married me for my parmesan mashed potatoes, but the truth is, they are that damn good.

Sarah B: YOU should have been in MY conlaw class where there was so much sexist and racist and pretty much any other -ist wankery, and I never made a peep! It must be terribly tiring to battle an army of jerks alone, but it will serve you well…I have no idea what kind of law you’re going into, of course, but your confidence is inspiring and your clients will be lucky to work with you. Rock on!

I’m Rebecca Fucking Anderson because damnit I am a domestic GODDESS. I make barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen the sexiest thing on the entire fucking planet. I can be sexy and smart and accomplished in the world of business and finance and still bake the best damn cookies you have ever eaten in your life. And I can CHOOSE to be at work or at home and live a full life no matter where the hell I am, because my worth does not come from anyone’s damned opinion about what a woman should be.

Vulcanista: “Wait wait… someone killed a scorpion with their bare hands?? Okay, that doesn’t seem to have earned any remarks, but it might actually win the thread.”

I lived in Arizona at the time, was asleep in bed. I woke up feeling this tickly feeling on my knee, thought, “Damn mosquitoes!” threw back the covers, and slapped the hell out of whatever-it-was. There was a tiny jangle of sting (a feeling I know far too well), so I turned on the light to discover a nice, flat, dead scorpion in my bed.

Not sure I’d have the intestinal fortitude to do that when fully awake.

The third time I got stung by a scorpion while lying in bed, I quit shaking out my shoes in the morning.

Hey, any chance we could make this thread even more servicey by adding requests? I know there has to be someone on here with a great recipe for a soy viniagrette that I could use to make a seared tuna salad!

I’m a goddamn good writer. I’m an even better editor. I absorb all kinds of information and knowledge, and I can put them back together in ways that make whole new parts of the world make sense to people.

I’m damn funny.

There is nothing I can’t learn if I put my mind to it.

And the thing I’m currently proudest of is that I’ve spent the past almost-six years raising twin boys, who are both on the autism spectrum. I have figured out their sensory triggers. I have helped them overcome many of their anxieties. I have researched, had conferences, and written thousands of words to teachers, instructors and aides, practically every adult they spend time with, helping them understand where my kids are coming from and how best to help them learn and succeed.

I have gotten so good at this that, when we had an occupational therapist coming to our house once a week to see them, she repeatedly talked about how much she learned from me during her sessions with my boys.

I’m Barb FUCKING Benesch-Granberg. I’m smart. I’m strong. I have patience like you wouldn’t believe. I can be empathetic and analytical at the same time, and I’m fucking awesome at figuring out the needs, wants and motivations of non-verbal children, and teaching them how to express all those things in appropriate ways.

I’m Trix-the-fucking techie, and I’m an awesome IT administrator. I’m also fucking excellent at translating from techie to normal person. I am not a “geek”, but I’m better at troubleshooting than the official geeks on my team. I’m now their team leader, and I’m kicking arse at pointing them in the right direction when it comes to resolving shit. I can also write good fucking English, which is a rarity in that line of work, I tell you.

I’m also a damn fine cook, a good fuck, a queer who accepts every permutation of (consensual) sexuality there is, nurturing and generous to my loved ones (everyone else can fuck off) and a bloody good maker of cocktails. I even invent them – tasty ones.

Regarding the soy vinaigrette, I just make a standard one (recipe for 1 cup from Francis Lam), but do some substituting. So, rice wine vinegar instead of the normal vinegar, and with about 2-3 Tbl of soy sauce, to taste (put 2 Tbl of soy sauce in the measure, and top up to 1/4 c with the rice vinegar). Similarly, substitute 2-3Tbl of oil with sesame oil, to make up 3/4 c of oil in total. 1/2-1 tsp of sugar. Put in a 1/2 tsp of tahini paste if desired (no, it’s not very Japanese, but it works beautifully). Shake in a jar till emulsified.

An alternate is to make a thick mustardy version with 1 Tbl of Japanese mustard (or mild American mustard). 1Tbl of soy sauce, one of rice vinegar, 1/2 tsp sugar. Whisk together. Then whisk in 1-2 Tbl of sesame oil, and about 1/2 C of canola or similar. Adjust to taste.

Wow! I’ve been reading and refreshing this thread all afternoon, and am just stunned at how magnificent you all are, in so many ways. I’d love to sit and respond to each and every person here and ask more questions of them, but i’m afraid that would trap me in an infinite loop of reading/responding/refreshing that i doubt my bladder could cope with.

it makes me a little sad that i find it hard to write my own manifesto of awesomeness, and to realise how negative, familiar (and fucking LOUD) that inner critic has become in my mind. Even right now i’m struggling and i haven’t really even started…

Ugh. Fuck that.

I am Emma fucking lito, and i am awesome. i am scary smart, funny, kind, generous and can make anyone feel welcome and comfortable the minute they step through my front door.

I am the best big sister you could wish for, who will have your back no matter how badly you fuck up, and will make my home a safe place for you whenver you need it. When our parents leave the state/country, i will be the one who keeps sucide watch, bails you out of jail or picks you up from random places for being a public nuisance, or rides your back about your medication until you take it regularly. I will move your house for you over and over, i will listen, and make you laugh, and call you on your bullshit when it needs to be called.

I can grow beautiful, ten pound ++ babies, push them out of my vagaygay, and raise them to be thoughtful, considerate, hilarious, glorious children. In fact, i’ve done it so well twice before that i’m currently growing another one right this minute (only 8 weeks more cooking time to go!). Many people have told me that i am one of the best mothers they know, and often come to me about their own kids. Right this minute, i have 10 12 year old girls staying over for my daughter’s slumber party in the lounge, and i will feed them and make them warm and safe and goddamn enjoy their company for its unabashed enthusiasm for life til they go home in the morning.

I will not back down from what i know is right, and will stand up to anything and anyone for what/who i believe – even if it means being disowned by my mother for it. I will drive throught the night to break into a house where a toddler has been left alone with all the lights off for the night, even if everyone tells me to mind my own business as i’m not a blood relation, and i will not give her back until ‘everyone’ admits that is fucked up and agrees to do something about it.

I can edit, copyedit, ghostwrite or lead a class in creative writing so well that i was unamimoulsy voted President of my state’s Society of Editors two years running, and only stood down because i closed up my freelance shop and have gone back to university. I can help anyone – anyone – tell their story on paper in the closest possible imitation of what is in their head or their heart, and explain almost anything from why concrete doesn’t burn to why your surname is hyphenated in such simple terms a three year old can understand.

If you fuck with me professionally, i will call your bluff and defend myself in court so well that the magistrate will ask if i have had legal training (i haven’t), apologise to me for having my time wasted, AND i will walk out of there with your pride and balls in my pocket (not to mention a chunk of your money for wasting my time and tarnishing my reputation).

I will forgive and work through anything, or turn the other cheek, if it is the right thing to do. Even if inside my heart is breaking or i want to bash your head in with your own foot, i will pull up my big girl pants because i know the world doesn’t revolve around me and what i want.

I will keep on being top of my classes and graduate as the best fucking nurse midwife you have ever met, and i will go above and beyond to make sure your birth is empowered and OWNED by you.

I can also make pie like nobody’s business, build furniture, sew clothes for my family, and make the most adorable deformed toys that all children far and wide fall in love with.

I am Emmalito, and that felt great. Thank you to anyone who is still reading so far down the thread!

@la niebla, @Lisablue, @Lisa512, @paintmonkey, Sorry for coming back to the party so much later (life outside the interwebz, ya know), but adore the idea of a Critical Inner Voice Bear. I may have to add that to the coping skills arsenal. I also love that OF COURSE Shapelings took it to the next level and decided we should make Inner Critic Bear cakes and eat them. (Truthfully, I would have been more than happy with a euphonium cake though, as a brass cake sounds better than awesome. Maybe we should make our favorite brass instrument cake [euphoniums, trumpets, tubas, they’ve all been mentioned on the thread] and bring them to the epic Game Night that fattatgirl mentioned?)

@Jeliza, the way you explained your Photoshop mastery (domination even?) is nearly that exact wording is how I explain my mad InDesign skeelz to people frequently. Maybe Adobe is secretly planting hypnotic suggestions in their splash screens or something to get us all to think similarly about their products. I mean, if they are hiding things like space monkeys and shooting ducks and such in the splash screen, it’s just a short step to mind control…

er, @Jeliza, I haven’t had my morning cup of coffee. I wrote my comment to you in one sentence structure, went away, rewrote it differently upon final readthrough, didn’t reread closely enough apparently. Doh. Short and to the point (so I can go get that damn coffee), your wording is similar to how I describe my own InDesign skeelz, and it tickled my brain in an awesome way. Please disregard the word salad shame that is my first sentence to you in the comment above.

I got linked here by a favorite writer of mine, and though I’ve never read this blog before, this entry resonates with me and I simply had to post.

I am Calia Fucking Nissene, and I’m fucking awesome.

I move people to tears every time I open my mouth to sing, because my voice is That Fucking Gorgeous. I now have an annual gig singing the National Anthem at a semi-national Taekwondo tournament, because Grandmaster Ahn and the other masters can’t imagine anyone else doing it. I can sing in Korean, Japanese, French, Italian, Latin, Hebrew, German, Russian, and even in Fucking Romanian. I have received countless honors, awards, scholarships, ribbons and trophies for my damn singing, because I’m just that fucking good at it.

I am an amazing fucking artist. I am so good that a big-name game company offered to fly me across the country for a summer internship. I am so damn good that, when I turned it down, they said, “Please at least think about it for next year, then, because we want you!” I am so good that multiple professors have asked me why I’m at some podunk non-art college when I could have gotten a full-ride scholarship to pretty much any art school in the country.

I am a fantastic fucking writer. My creative writing teacher, a published novelist, asked me why the hell I haven’t published anything yet, and why I’m not an English major, I’m that damn good. I’ve never received anything less than an A on any writing assignment, because I’m That. Damn. Good. My characters are fully realized individuals and my plots are intriguing. My academic writing is clear and persuasive. I actually CHANGED SOMEONE’S MIND about women needing a bigger role in the military, because my paper was That. Fucking. Awesome.

I am a kickass martial artist. I have a Fucking Black Belt in Fucking Taekwondo and have a stash of tournament trophies in my closet. I have had other black belts and even Masters tell me that they have never seen a younger girl so invested in the art. My forms are Fucking Perfect. I also study Fucking BJJ, and routinely win matches against men who weigh at least 40lbs more than me. I ALSO study Fucking Capoeira, and I can kick you in the face from a mother fucking handstand, bitch!

I am damn good at science, too. I got a fucking 5 on my AP Biology test. I can comprehend biology better than anyone else I know, and friends routinely ask me for help with their biology, geology, chemistry and physics homework. I am obsessed with archaeology and astrology and can carry on legitimate conversations about space and prehistoric life with professors at a level that most other college students can’t even fucking understand.

To take a quote from Boondock Saints II: “I am so fucking smart, I make smart people feel like they are retarded!” (Sorry for any offense- it’s just a direct quote, and not necessarily the wording I would use.) That is how smart I fucking am. I have never tested below the 98th percentile in ANYTHING on a standardized test. I got a huge scholarship just based on how god damn well I did on the SAT. I can memorize faster, read faster, and learn faster than almost anyone I know. And you know what? I refuse to fucking apologize for it! In mother fucking high school, I was told to stop reading ahead because it made the other students feel stupid. I told them to fuck off, because MY education is more important to me than making other, less fortunate people feel like they’re “just as fucking special” as me- because you know what? THEY’RE NOT! If they can’t read and understand as fast as I do, then NO, they’re not as fucking special as me, and I refuse to dumb myself down to make them feel special!

I am fucking beautiful. I KNOW I am fucking beautiful. I am so god damn confident in my beauty, that despite the fact that my breasts are noticeably uneven, I can say that they’re still fucking beautiful too, and I fucking flaunt them! I am so mother fucking pretty that I get compliments on my makeup, WHEN I’M NOT EVEN WEARING ANY. That is how fucking gorgeous my skin and eyes are: I don’t have to wear makeup, and I look the way people strive to with all that junk! I am so fucking fit and so fucking gorgeous that I put the prom queen to fucking SHAME. Every single guy I have ever been friends with has wanted to date me at some point or another, because I am just That. Fucking. Pretty.

I am Calia Fucking Nissene, and I will not apologize for this post, because I’m FUCKING AWESOME!
Thank you for the opportunity, and I can say that after reading this, I’m going to start watching this blog. So cool!

AnotherKate: Thank you so much for that comment. I actually started going “but I have not done as MUCH as other people, it doesn’t COUNT” and then I had to remind myself how hey, I am nineteen years old, I haven’t really had a chance to do much yet outside of classwork.

I am chavah fucking leh because my mother who had a fucking brain tumor slept on the floor in a one bedroom apartment for five years so I could go to the best high school in the state, had to get a special exemption so I could take the fucking AP exams, didn’t have lunch money, and then I got National Merit, went to Penn on scholarship, and am now the owner of a master’s and on the way to a PhD. I also own a house and have retirement savings. I’m 25.

I take crap from no-fucking-one about the elitism of the Ivy Leagues.

I am an awesome cook, a damn good spouse, and no one fucking TOUCHES my family or friends.

I speak 5 languages, 2 of them quite well.

I once took the Outward Bound Alaska Leadership Summer Semester even though I’d never been camping before in my life, and survived. This summer I’m hiking the 100 miles around Wonderland, solo.

I’ve dived Wreck Valley at 100 feet in New Jersey in 10 ft viz, the kelp forests off Catalina, and seen sharks off Costa Rica in 15-20 foot viz.

I am not afraid of life.

I just registered to run the Philadelphia marathon in November. The last marathon I ran was an accident when I was 19. They promised a salmon dinner at the end. I was in really good shape at the time. It seemed like a good idea. (after that OB course)

Fish are very important to me and I WILL GET IN YOUR BUSINESS about saving the tuna, because tuna are important.

I was raised Scientologist, converted to Judaism, and have finally worked through enough crap to even consider ever seeing an (omg) psych. This is a BFD, and I had trouble typing that, which I think qualifies me as chavahlfuckingleh for today.

Hey, any chance we could make this thread even more servicey by adding requests? I know there has to be someone on here with a great recipe for a soy viniagrette that I could use to make a seared tuna salad!

Actually, I have a recipe for a seared tuna salad with a soy-ginger vinaigrette. See if this is what you were looking for:

So I started to write this out with a disqualifying “well, I haven’t done as much as the rest of you” but then I thought FUCK THAT – I have my own unique brand of awesomeness so…

I am thursday fucking nextgal and I have overcome 31 YEARS of mental illness that was actually undiagnosed Asperger’s Syndrome and I figured that out myself, thank you dozens of doctors and therapists. I work in a field that is hard for neuro-typicals but is actually supposed to be flat out impossible for Aspies and you know what? I rock at it. I know my shit, treat people with respect and decency, and my integrity is unquestionable. Even at the expense of the idiot corporate yahoos I work for.

I am a cat whisperer and can take a horse with an attitude problem and out-stubborn him any day without using whips or spurs.

I am finishing my bachelors and will be doing a master’s in library science in the hopes that I can get a job finding shit out about anything, because that is what makes me happiest, outside of cats and horses.

And you know what I’m best at? Being ME. Despite being told as a child “no matter what you are good at there is always someone better” by my mother, who hated me for my weight and social awkwardness. And somehow I KNEW that wasn’t fair and fought like HELL to be accepted for myself. I’ve finally stopped hating myself for not being what I was “supposed” to be and figured out who I am is really fucking awesome. And THAT, my friends, is a pretty damn good place to start.

Here’s the last 24 hours: planted raspberries in my awesome garden. Went to dance party in a social dance form I have no prior experience in and fucking tore the floor up. Helped support my new friend and made sure she had a great time at the party. When other partygoers asked about the history of the building we were in, I knew the answer. Went home, got six hours’ sleep, woke up and went on to my high-function, leadership-position job, where the people I work with compliented me on my performance, not knowing I was working underslept and hung over. Got home and made magic hangover-cure soup. From scratch. Checked on the new raspberries; they are still alive.

I’m a damn good school counselor and proud of the fact that I’m good at my job. I’m a lifelong learner. I enjoy and am good at learning new things. I have a good work ethic, which I’m very proud of. I know what I want in a relationship and I’m good at articulating it. I’m a good writer, especially when it comes to music criticism. I can debate the merits of twee pop versus dream pop, ‘darkwave’ versus goth ’til the cows come home. I was a damn good DJ and can find a song for every emotion, every unexpressed feeling. I’m a damn good driver. I was trained at Bondurant Race Car driving school, where I did a perfect 360 in a Ford Fiesta out in the Arizona desert, raising a flawless rooster-tail of dust. I’ve driven accident-free for 13 years in L.A. traffic. I know how to be alone. I’m a good cat mommy and a tireless animal rescuer, including fostering two 4-week old kittens in my bathroom for 2 weeks last year before finding them a good home. I’m very organized at work and at home. I know how to make the most of small apartment space. I’m a very good friend.

I’m Cath the Fucking Canberra Cook, and I really can fucking cook. I know my food, and I write restaurant reviews for my local paper. And that’s not even my profession. For my day job, I’m a geek-of-all trades. I can wrangle data into all sorts of shapes, and write code to do it in any damn language you want. These days I’m specialising in public health and welfare statistics.

I spent most of my adolescence protecting my family from my alcoholic father, protecting myself from my mother’s emotional abuse, and protecting my older sister from harming herself. I did this all while doing most of the cooking and cleaning ,maintaining a 3.9 gpa at one of the most difficult high schools in the country, and earning 5’s on all 12 AP Exams I took .

I graduated from an Ivy League University majoring in fucking linguistics and another language-based major with an undiagnosed auditory processing disorder. Every professor who told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough can kiss my ass.

At my current job, I solve a dozen problems before my boss even gets in for the day, keep track of the schedules, preferences and personalities of 43 individuals, field calls from IT to explain the gradebook software to THEM, and twice a year I can grade finals exams and projects,enter, calculate and submit finals grades for 12 large lecture classes within 72 hours. I handle any issue thrown my way efficiently and creatively and I can create Excel spreadsheets that make the Stats Professor in our department speechless. Being an administrative assistant does not mean I am less intelligent, nor does it negate my accomplishments.

I can solve any word search within 3 minutes flat, can do math in my head with astonishing speed, and I know my way around 2 modern languages in addition to my native English and 4 dead ones. I may not know the right word to say to you when you are hurting but I will do my best to give you less you less to worry about while you work through it and show you that I care.

Above all, I have in the past and I will again fight my way back to the surface when these thoughts that tell me I don’t deserve the air I breathe try to pull me down to the bottom of the ocean. Dammit, I will win!

And also, I joined a verbal fight a young woman was having with a group of arrogant men over whether they ought to swear on a public bus (Which is against the rules.) I backed her up, pointing out that it was against the rules, and called them out to the bus driver. They complained but stopped asserting their authority. First step on the road to not letting people get away with shit.

I am fucking awesome, and I don’t need to do a damned thing to be it. I live awesome.

Thank you for this post!! It and all of its comments are so inspiring; and all of it after I had a really down-on-myself week. Well, fuck that, because:

I am Tatyanna, and I am amazing! I am a fantastic writer, and a grammar and editing whiz. I am also a good leader, able to give and get respect of others and build a team. I have fought a severe chronic pain condition for most of my adult life and it has caused me to face down many obstacles; because of this, I have grown stronger in body and mind. And I never, ever, ever give up when I want something!

You know what, I am Re fucking joyce. I am so damn funny people tell me their cheeks hurt after an hour with me. I make the tastiest fucking scones ever. I’m a wicked dancer and I am really, really clever.

…damn, that was hard to do. But when I thought about, I realized I get complimented more than I thought. All those things came from things people have said to me this week. I bet that’s true for a lot of people. People can tell how goddamn awesome we are!

I am Secondhand fucking Moon and I know my way around a goddamn garden. I can stick a seed in crappy dirt and make it grow. I can also walk through any park in my state and name almost every species of tree. My friends ask me when they want to know what a plant or tree or bird species is. I can follow an animal path on a forest floor where other people just see leaves. Who fucking cares if none of this stuff pays the bills, it’s what I love and I’m damn good at it.

I’m defying fucking odds!
I can sing, and I don’t care if you hear me when I randomly start singing in public. I know I sing off key sometimes, but I never claimed to be perfect.
I don’t give up. I’m going to fucking graduate. I will make a movement to help survivors and help prevent rape all together. Those fucking rapists will not ruin my life!

Late late late to the party, but I’ve got to join because I am momo fucking otter because last Tuesday I defended my dissertation and became a Ph. FUCKING D.! And it has been a crazy journey, but I DID IT!

I am Suzi-Fucking-Lastnamethatmakesmetooeasytogoogle! And here are the ways in which I rock.
I have a degree in theoretical physics, yes, it was hard, and yes, I am smart. And guess what, I’m nearly finished my PhD in theoretical physics. And my first chapter draft was submitted and judged to be very good.
Think you couldn’t possibly understand my project? Think again, for I am damn fine at explaining really tricky quantum stuff to non-sciencey folk. I’m actually known for it.
I am grand high bitch of my research group, oldest (academically anyway) of the postgrads and she who knows what’s what and can fix your computer.
When I’m not rocking the postgrad thing, I can usually be found knitting, crocheting or spinning. All of which I started within the last two years, all of which I am reasonably competent at.

I’m Fiona Fucking Quivo, and I am awesome. I am an accent chameleon. I love foreign languages, and when I put the time in, I am fucking awesome at learning and speaking and writing them. I am an awesomely fast reader (two standard-sized novels a day, baby) and a good, fiercely improving writer. I always know where everything is. I can be brain-bendingly organized about anything I want to. I am the Together Girl; when my shit is together, it is Together, I tell you. I’m good at spotting and seizing opportunities; I’m also good at creating them for myself. I have excellent instincts; my extremely well-developed hinky feeling is and has been a fucking lifesaver.

I am halfway to becoming a permanent resident here in the US, and I am halfway through because I am fucking awesome at following through complicated processes and learning from my (very few, hem hem) mistakes.

I graduated with honors without even TRYING ON PURPOSE. When I try on purpose, I can move mountains and shake the world.

I quit my most recent job not because they weren’t going to give me a raise (they did) or let me move up the ladder (they did) or let me really make a difference in the office (they would); I quit because I wanted to do something for myself, something awesome, something my own.

Sometimes I wake up and look around and wonder how exactly I got to this point, got to somewhere that feels very much like where I want to be. Clearly, I need to print out this comment or distill it into a List that goes up on my ceiling where I can see it on the worst days: I am Fiona Fucking Quivo, and I am fucking awesome. And, reading even halfway through this thread, I can see that I am also awesome at picking awesome company to delurk in :D

I’m Mary-Fucking-B, and I’m a fabulous contralto. I’m good at other things, too, like cooking and baking (yes, both), writing, marketing, PR, and have a degree in chemical engineering. I’ve got a fairly good eye for style and color, too.

I’m ho-fucking-mitsu and I’ve been continuously kicking ass and taking names for more than 58 fucking years. I climbed 3 mountains (and one of them 3 times)while I was still. a. smoker, studied Zen for a dozen years, serving in all positions (chant leader, meditation teacher, etc.) and did monstrous monastic retreats including a Rinzai one (the toughest) in fucking Japan when I was nearly 50, trekked in Nepal, rode a bike around the Netherlands. I manage 75 acres of landscaping for a college with ONE helper and I can operate heavy equipment and nearly any power tool around. I know the names of all the plants in your yard. Just for shits and giggles I write and perform spoken word pieces and am currently hosting an open mic. I also am taking a clothing pattern drafting class because despite spending most of the working day in Carharrts I rock fashion hard. I make my own jewelry and I can sing a little opera. My hair is fabulous. I’m the most loyal friend you can have and I’m in it with you for the long run, like forever. I let people store their stuff for free in the house that I bought and fixed myself and yes I’ll help you move, take you to the clinic, babysit your kids. I’m a lover AND a fighter, a lifelong trade unionist and a fucking registered Socialist. I’m not done yet-I just got started so bring it!

I’m PlusSized Fuckin Feminist (More Womanist, but that’s beside the point) because I’m the one who folks channel when racist, sexist, homophobic and other shit comes up. I’m the one who speaks up when I’m wronged and am not afraid to do it in the face of adversity.

I woke up one morning at age 40 and I hated the way I looked. I started running and lifting weights. At 44, I am healthier, better looking and in so much better shape than I have ever been in my life.I did it. I am so fucking confident in myself. I’m smart and I can do anything and everything on my own.

I’m Diver fucking Kat, and I’m a goddamn spectacular dancer – no one moves like I do. And I looooove cooking, and I make some of the best fucking vegetarian dishes in the world, including the best fucking veggie paella in the southern hemisphere. Represent!

I also swear like the best motherfucken sailors in the world, accomplish whatever it is I put my mind to, and I’m fucking intelligent. There I said it. That felt motherfucking good!

Kate Fucking Harding and all the other rockin’ Shapelings, this post is awesome. And all ya’ll are especially awesome for saying so.

I’m Nina Fucking S. and reading about all these awesome fucking women affirming their awesomeness makes me SO happy.

I speak French really fucking well, better than a lot of people I know who have lived in France. I have fluent conversations with people, use slang, and I can do a mean fucking Quebec accent.

I am also a kick-ass fucking biker. Today I missed my bus, so I hopped on my bike and raced the bus to the next stop. And you know what, I fucking beat the bus. I’m not afraid to ride in the road with traffic and I go on really fucking long bike rides on hilly country roads. I’m also going to do a triathlon this summer and show everyone that I’m also a kick-ass fucking swimmer and runner too.

I’m about to graduate from a really good college where I worked my ass off and proved that I’m pretty fucking smart. AND I already have a job working in a museum because somebody realized how fucking smart I am and decided to hire me.

I came back to say that this post and the comments are still reverberating. I was starting to get low on spoons for the day when I encountered rape apologists online, and I almost let it go because I wasn’t sure I had it in me to tackle it today.

But then I remembered that I am Tea-fucking-spoon, so I fucking stole a spoon from fucking nowhere, and I called them on their shit even though one of them was my own sister.

Won’t make a difference with the ones that were blathering, but it might make a difference with somebody who was just reading along, so it was worth it just on the off-chance someone might fucking get it.

Also, I am reading all the comments on this thread. I subscribed to the comments, in fact. So, even if it is two years from now, and you are linked here and find the comments still open, and you want to declare your fucking self-worth, it has been and will be read. Also: part 2, I am delighted to be in the company of SO MUCH FUCKING AWESOME, even if I don’t comment very often on this blog.

I’m Lynne-fucking-P, and I have cancer. In my 30s. There’s a chemo pump pumping poison in my body RIGHT NOW. It’s called 5-FU, and I can’t imagine a better acronym for this evil drug than FU. Because of my cancer, I don’t have a colon anymore and I get bi-weekly chemo sessions; I’m exhausted, and my mind forgets things; I drop things because the chemo makes my fingers numb; I worry about the odds of surviving this cancer for more than 5 years. Despite these things, I’m an awesome mom, and I’m teaching my awesome 3yo daughter to fucking own her world. I’m teaching her to plant veggies from seeds, use a Phillips screwdriver (“righty, tighty!”), read a book, entertain herself without TV, and measure ingredients to make bread from scratch. And this three year old is absorbing it all.

I don’t know what I’ll be when I’m NED (“No Evidence of Disease”…the new phrase replacing remission in some cancer circles) and finished with chemo and the side effects that may last another year or two, but I can’t wait to see what I choose to do next. I plan to fucking rock it.

I’m Katherine fucking [last name]. I took to school like a fish to fucking water. I graduated high school summa cum laude; I graduated college magna cum laude. In my day I played a mean fucking flute. My senior year of high school I was the 18th best flutist in the state of Texas. I have an awesome vocabulary and language is my plaything. I got a perfect verbal score on the SAT.

I am a kind and patient person. I can get along with just about anybody, including people who drive others up the fucking wall. I can be serene and chill with the best of them. I have a large capacity to absorb the sorrow and sadness of the world, and return to it kindness and empathy. I can listen to you till the goddamned cows come home and I will, gladly, because I want to hear your story.

I have no formal voice training, and can hardly go a single Sunday without someone complimenting my singing.

I have long, gorgeous hair. No, I will not cut it. No I will not donate it. It’s mine and it’s awesome. I will always keep it long, and when I become an old lady I will put my hair in an old lady bun and it will be fucking awesome.

I am the best hugger and cuddler you are ever likely to meet. Anyone who has experienced my awesome hugs will come back wanting more, and will always get more because I love hugs. I have made eager converts to the joys of cuddling. People will fight each other for the opportunity to cuddle with me.

I too have read every single comment and they are amazing, and I am glad to know that mine will be read too.

I am MW Fucking N and I am the shit and I know it. Like @Valerian, I am my own #1 fan. I am so fun and funny, I don’t mind being alone because I get to hang out with myself.

I am an amazing friend, but I also don’t let “friends” step on me. I like to think I am not afraid of confrontation.

I blew glass starting at age 12 and the only reason I stopped was I got so good that my teacher wanted me to apprentice in his shop (I was 14), and the pressure killed the fun. My mom wanted me to stick with it because she thought it would make a kickass college application essay, but I refused to live my life to get into college. My college essays (which were not about glassblowing) were so awesome and fun to read and full of bragging and personality that I think they deserve to be published. Even though I didn’t take enough AP classes, my essays alone would have gotten me into whatever college I applied to (ie, any and all) because they show my unstoppable awesomeness. However, I never had to test this theory, since I was accepted early to my first choice, a school at which, three years later, I am so happy and know I made the right choice, even if it wasn’t the most highly-ranked I could have gone to.

In high school I was a peer educator and a DAMN good peer sex educator (for Planned Parenthood) and my favorite class to teach were the rowdy sophomore boys, because they were so much fun. I think I may want to do something like that as a career, because who doesn’t like high schoolers? I’m such a great public speaker, I gave a graduation speech where the punchline was about how many homeless people there are in New York City, and everyone laughed so hard, partly out of awe of how I made a hilarious yet completely non-disrespectful joke about the homeless. (My speech was about this program I did in DC that worked with the homeless, and how it changed me; how whenever I go to DC, or encounter homeless people, I take what I learned and treat them with dignity and respect, and even if I don’t have any money or food to give them, I acknowledge their existence and smile and say hello. By this time the audience was squirming with guilt, and then I ended my speech saying, “I’m going to school in NYC next year and I’m REALLY excited–I hear there are A LOT of homeless people there.”)

Like I mentioned earlier, I fucking love myself. I don’t do drugs for various reasons, one of them being I am high off life. I think it’s a challenge to have just as much fun and become just as uninhibited without the help of alcohol/drugs. I love myself on a regular basis, sometimes five times in a row, if that’s how I’m feeling ;-).

Even though I’m really good at academic stuff and go to a very prestigious university, I believe that people are better than all that and I value all kinds of intelligences.

I speak three languages and started to learn a fourth. Since moving to Peru, my Spanish has gotten so good that people occasionally ask me if I’m Argentinian. I can speak English (and now apparently Spanish, I found out by accident) with a great French/Israeli accent. When I studied Spanish in high school and all my classmates were complaining about how hard it was, I had no idea what they were talking about, since I thought it was super easy.

I used to be the “lazy” one in my family and a week ago I climbed Machu Picchu. (With a killer stomach ache.) I bike like 30 miles a day while listening to my feminist/pro-sex podcasts.

I have identified as a feminist since middle school. I single-handedly created a “rift” in my orthodox Jewish community by insisting on reading the Torah for my Bat Mitsvah.

I give at least 10% of my earnings to charities/organizations I believe in. I wish I had unlimited money, so I could give it to my favorite organizations, buy loved ones amazing gifts, and also go to restaurants and stuff all the time.

I believe in myself so much that I plan on writing a (or more) YA book with the protagonist based on my high school self. (Kind of a mixture of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks and Saving Francesca.)

I give such good advice, whether it be editing your essay, helping you quit your job, or relationship advice, that you should follow it to the T. No really, my words are golden. Repeat them exactly as I am telling you.

I don’t even find it hard to list how awesome I am. I think this in my head all the time. I reject self-deprecating humor because I think it has a negative effect on you; instead, I favor self-appreciating humor, in which I sound like a cocky bitch and do occasionally get called out on it, but you all are reminding me again why I need to stick to my gut and tell the world to shut up, they know it’s true.

I’m Lisa Fucking Soderlund. I’ve come a long way, baby. My entire life I’ve been able to tolerate abuse like nobody’s business. Now I can’t, and I think it’s because I am finally with someone who hasn’t once brought me down yet, so I finally know what it is to enjoy life away from that and I never plan to go back to tolerating shit. Speaking of tolerance, I tolerate headaches and function with them better than anyone I know.

I can write very well about topics dear to me. I can put weird Mormon doctrines into modern perspective that shows what a mindfuck it really is.

I am the queen of cheese–not the cheese you eat. I’m good at doing cheesy things with my kids to entertain them. Like the time my daughter and I were making my king-sized bed, and somehow we started a game where we’d lift the top sheet high, then jump onto the bed and sing “Ground control to Major Tom!” as many times as we could before the sheet settled over us. Or the time we wandered downtown Dallas, taking sneaky pictures of ourselves in buildings and offices that we were trying to look like we had a reason to be in. Or the many times we’d lie down and look at each other’s mouths upside-down, trying to make each other laugh at the crazy way our mouths look while talking. Or chasing ghost crabs on the beach at night with a flashlight just to freak ourselves out. Or putting huge orange peels between our lips and teeth and trying to make each other laugh.

I am a good listener. I somehow make friends with strangers on planes even when I have a book open in front of me. I can stand in a checkout line and within two minutes will know tons of random and personal details about the clerk without even asking them for it. People seem to just know I’m safe to tell stuff to. It’s been this way my entire life.

I’m horrible at remembering stuff sometimes, which frustrates the living hell out of me. But this has its benefits: I forget juicy confidences so I’m fairly safe from engaging in gossip. I can watch a movie over and over and still linger in suspense and love it. I can experience ignorant bliss daily! I forgive easily because I feel so much better the next day. I figure if I ever get Alzheimer’s I’m good to go!

I’m good at creating art.

I’m good at being open to talking about any subject my friends or spouse or kids or step-kids want to discuss. I get this from my fabulous Mom who is the same.

I’m good at killing house plants and being accepting of the weeds and grass that grow in my flowerbeds when it’s too hot for me to want to go out there and tackle it.

I’m a good lover.

I’m good at spotting birds and trees and bugs and creatures and getting others to notice them, too.

I’m good at speaking German–or I once was. People couldn’t tell I was American, which I was proud of. I’m also good at trying new things, and new cultures, and integrating into new families.

I’m way too good at procrastination, which is why I’ve gotta stop writing now. Four half-finished art pieces are calling my name.

First, it’s awesome that you make the grade. I hope these comments have shown you that there’s room for you to be awesome without crowding out anyone else’s awesome, and that you tell your inner critic to stfu and gtfo the next time it tells you to feel guilty about being top of your class.

I am very fortunate in that most days, I have all the spoons I need, and most of those, I have a spoon or two to spare. Yesterday was just a spoon-eating kind of day for me, so I was glad to have this thread to give me the boost I needed to reach one more spoon down from wherever it came from, which let me employ the “other” spoon theory of teaspooning.

That theory is that one person speaking out or taking action against injustice or great need is like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon, but that many people, each with their own teaspoon, each speaking out or taking action (large or small), can have a greater effect on the problem. I’m not entirely certain where this one originated, but I’ve seen it referenced fairly frequently at Shakesville.

Oddly, I’ve been using this handle in various situations since before I encountered either theory. It’s an outgrowth of initials that are important to me, and is representative of my preference to have a nice cup of tea and just be excellent to each other but also my willingness to cut out the heart of anyone who fucks with my family with a fucking spoon.

Spoons. They has many flavors, apparently. Also, they nest like this. Who knew?

I am pretty sure teaspoon was referring to The Spoon Theory (link to PDF: http://butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf). It’s a pretty good, and relatively well known, story written by Christine Miserandino, who has Lupus. She used the spoon theory to explain to a friend how she struggles with Lupus.
I find it particularly beautiful, to be honest.

I’m just a big fan of the theory and love to share it with others. Didn’t mean to leap beneath you, there.
Also, I don’t know what steals your spoons, but I hope the best for you, and would send you a bucket of silver spoons if I could. Your posts make me happy, and like many on this blog, keep me going when my spoons are too few! :)

I find it amusing when people — women, mostly — say “Oh, you have such confidence.” Shorthand for….arrogant. I’m fine with it. I’ve been nationally ranked as an athlete (in my mid-30s) and won major awards and speak two languages. And proud of all of it.

Not a problem! I am not diminished by your awesome sharing of what really is a beautiful explanation of invisible illnesses and disabilities, and I am happy that someone else has seen it and shares it widely. There is room here for all of our fucking awesome selves in the conversation!

The things that steal my spoons are usually small and temporary and manageable, but sometimes they gang up on me in large numbers, and then I feel like I’ve been pecked to death by ducks. Yesterday started with a migraine and ended with a painful reminder of past abuse, and any half dozen of the spoon-thieves would have been manageable, but I was temporarily outnumbered. Thank you for your kind thoughts, and I also wish the best for you and hope that whatever steals your spoons doesn’t do so too often or too many at a time.

I’m a damn good writer, too. I’m also really good at calming angry people down and getting them to listen to reason. I’m good at talking to young men in gay crisis and helping them feel good about themselves. I’m an excellent teacher.

I am Nina Fucking Summers, and I can Make Things. I can Knit, Draw, Paint, Decorate a Cake. I Made a BabyThing, and have turned her into a smart, cuddly, beautiful, SMART, bossy, FUCKING SMART ToddlerThing who LOVES her Mommy without the help of her father who proved to be the no-good douchebag I dumped before I knew I was going to be her Mommy. I walked into community college last fall after EIGHT FUCKING YEARS of no school and EARNED a 3.8 GPA because I’M REALLY FUCKING INTELLIGENT. My drawing instructor dropped our 15 drawing portfolio to 10 because we missed a lot of classes this winter. I have 19, and by the end of the week I WILL HAVE 20, and they are some of the BEST works in the class, because I AM A TALENTED ARTIST. (I teared up typing that, because I don’t usually have the stones to actually call myself an artist, but I AM ONE, DAMN IT.)
In a few years, I will be TEACHING your kids to make art of their own, not sad macaroni pictures but ART, because I hate the piss-poor instruction I got in elementary art, and the way it limited me and made me believe for so long that I wasn’t talented enough to be a real Artist.
I am also, btw, going to use my art to fight againt Harmful Beauty Ideals and Ladies as Not-People in art, even though that second is a damn HARD though process to break myself of.
I’m going to do all those things for you guys, but mostly for Me and My Daughter, because as Sybill Shepard says, I’M WORTH IT.

Okay, I’m late and a lurker but this thread is too fucking awesome for me not to take part in.

I am Kaz fucking Too Cool For A Last Name, and I rock. I’m really, really damn smart and really, really damn good at maths. I was in the top five people of my year in my undergraduate degree at a very prestigious university, I did what is possibly the hardest postgrad course for maths in the fucking world and passed and I’m now doing a PhD with one of the top people in my field. And my mind wants me to talk about owning my class privilege wrt Oxbridge and stuff here but this is not the thread, so I will instead say: I did all of these things while an undiagnosed disability that, among others, manifests for me as a learning disorder was wreaking havoc with my life. My sleep schedule was haywire, I struggled to manage even semi-regular meals, I missed around a quarter to a third of my lectures every single term for the entirety of undergrad and the taught postgrad course, studying for exams was almost completely impossible and I usually ended up taking the exams not having eaten, slept or studied, and not actually able to read what I was writing near the end because everything was blurring so much. AND I STILL DID FUCKING BRILLIANTLY.

I am also a brilliant writer. And I refuse to be cowed into thinking that fanfic isn’t *real* writing or that I should write original stuff or go professional in order to be a *real* writer because writing is my hobby and I write what I want and I’m really damn good at it.

…and sometimes I make truffles! :)

Also, since people have said that they love their sexuality I will put in here: I LOVE MY SEXUALITY. I’m not really sure this fits into the thread since this is more about awesome things we are good at but I often feel as if I’m not allowed to say I like my own sexuality so I shoehorn it in. Because yeah, I love being asexual and it is the happiest thing for me that I can go through life and not have to try to like sex or have sex or even think about sex if I don’t want to. And I’m getting very good at Righteous Asexual Rage when we have been ignored!

Incidentally, I think this is a really awesome exercise! Because I had a lot of issues with depression as a teenager and I’m pretty sure one of the things that fed into it strongly was not being allowed to say I was good at anything which led to not thinking I was good at anything. And one of the things that helped me deal with it was acknowledging that in some ways I am an awesome person! And it is seriously frustrating to me that I feel as if I’m not allowed to openly say stuff like this when I seriously need it for my chronically low fragile shaky self-esteem. Also, not being able to say or really think that I was really fucking smart led to not being able to say or really think how bad some things were getting (because *obviously* since I was getting good grades my life couldn’t be nosediving *that* badly since I couldn’t possibly be fucking intelligent enough to make up for shit going seriously wrong) which led to the undiagnosed disability going undiagnosed for longer than it could have. So the whole “ooh but I must be humble!” thing has had some rather negative consequences for me personally and I want it to DIAF.

HEY! I’m Sara-fucking-phonic and I am inspired by this post and all its beautiful comments! I am an awesome hiker and camper, and I can teach people how to live in the woods forever if they wanted to! I’m also a talented graphic designer, and I’ve designed some beautiful things. I can organize an interactive touchscreen panel and figure out UI issues WITH THE BEST OF ‘EM.

Apparently, in our society it is only possible to be one or the other but I’m hear to say that I am a fully-certified degree-holder Computer Geek who is damn good at what she does but I am also a sexy, sassy and fun-loving female who is not afraid of wearing clothes that look good, really high heels and going out to be social and have a good time!

Also, my Mum says I burp like a wharfy, sneeze like a fairy and swear like a truck driver – I’m ok with this :-P

I am Nomie Fucking G, and I am the fastest goddamned reader I know. I am fucking smart and I can write you an awesome fucking essay on Latin poetry in under six hours. I am an awesome fucking tutor, even if that just means poking my friend with a stick to make sure she stays focused. I bake the best goddamned chocolate chip cookies you have ever tasted. I may have a shitty job but I am fucking amazing at it, and my project manager tells me how awesome I am every freaking day. I have turned projects around from near failure to resounding success and I am the lowest person on the roster.

Katherine: I too have long hair, which is gorgeous and I love it, and I get SO FUCKING TIRED of hearing about Locks of Love and being shamed for not giving them my hair. There was a letter to Miss Manners about exactly that a few weeks ago, and she gave her permission to point out that one really only needs one kidney to survive, and the list of people waiting for donations is really long, so (person who’s pestering you about your hair) should really give some serious thought to saving a life…

I read about it once a couple years ago and forgot about it. I love the original spoon theory as well as the take off, which I haven’t heard about before. Both really apply to me. The first one especially does during fibro flair ups and I just got over one. The alternate applies to my life in general (I actually think it can apply to anyone’s life) and the past couple days I’ve been able to magically make a spoon or two. Not only has doing this helped me make some spoons, but reading others freaking awesomeness has made some more spoons!

I have managed to get seating arrangements set up for all of my department for our move without anyone being upset, and prepared a two-page brief on the move rules, schedule, and details in 20 minutes to distribute to my executive admin (three levels above me!) and director and they both LOVED it, plus they loved my graphics I set up for visuals, and so did the other four managers I shared it with!

It made me feel so awesome, and has been the first part of this whole damn move process that made me happy, so I had to share! :)

(Also, I have to admit, I’m surprised at how many people with fibromyalgia I’ve met lately. Normally I’m by myself in that regard. Awesome not that people have it, but that I’ve found more people who understand. :) )

I had thought it may be too late to participate, but I have changed my mind…

I am kc-fucking-jones and damn it, it feels good to say that! I am damn proud of well I am doing! I have schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type, generalized anxiety disorder and fibromyalgia and I am living my life on my own terms with success. I have hopes and dreams and I do not and will not give up until they are accomplished! I am a damn good writer and musician. I sing, play the piano, flute, organ, guitar, and mountain dulcimer. I can preach a mean sermon. I am writing my own collection of poetry and will have it published when I am done. I might be ordained by my church one day. I am an aide to a girl with a developmental disability and I am damn compassionate! hehe This feels good.

I am really, really proud of my recovery. I am also in recovery from an eating disorder and am doing so fabulously that I have stopped counseling. I am a role model for others. I am a facilitator for support groups at NAMI – the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

I am an outstanding cook. I am kcfuckingjones and I rock.
(Also, if you take the first two letters of my middle name and combine it with my last name, you get cojones… hehe)

I am Maya Fuckin’ Papaya and this thread is awesome.
For a seventeen-year-old, I am pretty fuckin’ aware of the world and I am really fuckin’ good at articulating that. I am also a wonderful violist and I can sing really well.

I am L.C. Fucking Amazing because I work every day to give women a choice. I am unapologetic about the work I do and I am PROUD of it. I set clients at ease and I problem solve and work hard and get shit done and I even know what bradycardia, Bx, and Lovenox mean. I speak pretty great Spanish with a pretty incredible accent. I know a bunch about birth control and I could probably do a first trimester abortion, if only it didn’t involve me practicing medicine without a license. I can make people laugh and I can laugh at myself and tough situations and things that are just damn funny. I talk back to cat-callers and I have a patented Don’t Fuck with Me stride. I’m empathic and intuitive and I get a feeling when there’s an omen, or else I dream about the future and I’m usually accurate and I don’t worry that people will think that’s crazy. I’m crazy, with my history of depression, and I’m not afraid to talk about it. I read super-fast and I write really well, and I’m OK with not liking to write fiction–only creative non-fiction and poetry. I can also draw and paint, even though I don’t do it often. I can knit fast and furiously and I can do the Knitty patterns in the Piquant category. I have a photographic memory and a touch of synesthesia that helps, too. Even though you can’t really be “good at” yoga, I’m GOOD AT YOGA. I can do a supported handstand, walk down the wall and into a wheel, and I’m about 6″ away from doing a split, and I can do it all while staying with my breath. I like public speaking and I don’t like being social, and I’m completely fine with that. I don’t eat animals because I love them, and I can even teach almost any dog to shake hands in a matter of minutes. I rescued my cat Ramona and otherwise, I’m super-independent. I have a unique sense of style and I’m thrifty, too. I’m stubborn and sensitive and I drink a lot of water and a lot of tea and I enjoy them more than alcohol. I have cool hair, long eyelashes and a great nose stud, a big smile, terrific shoulder muscles, strong thighs, a good ass, and a nice stomach. I’m all about fat acceptance and I’m passionate about so many issues. I drive well, and parallel park, too. I prefer glasses to contacts and big earrings to inconspicuous ones. People say they don’t realize I’m short because I have a bigger presence. If something scares me, I do it anyway, or I don’t–because sometimes, it ain’t worth it. I’m loyal, I can keep a secret and I’m a leader in my own way. All in all, I’m pretty really rad.

…And another thing! (Written later when I remembered.) I’m a good photographer and it’s partially because I’m observant and I appreciate things. And I can type really fast and mostly accurately and I shunned typing classes. And I really get into holidays and I have an excellent sense of direction.

My name is Wired Fucking Ferret, and I get so enthused about projects that I don’t know they’re hard. My very first quilt was queen-sized with pictoral quilting and a broken star pattern. My first knitting design was colorwork mittens. I never stop to check if something is possible for beginners.

I am a kick-ass writer, and I make a lot of money doing it, enough to support two kids and a stay at home husband. In Seattle. And it’s technical writing. I will talk your ear off about email security or message queuing or XML transforms if you show the least interest.

Not only do I have an awesome, loving, stable and equal partnership that is going on 15 years now, I have enough mojo to sustain a second relationship with a woman who lives halfway across the country, and we are AWESOME.

I probably know more doggerel than you, and it makes up a non-zero part of my conversational style, and hell yes, it does count as poetry.

I read on the bus when I’m not knitting, and then I post snarky little book reviews, even for the romance novels, because I’m not ashamed that I am a smart, fantastic woman who reads romance novels.

Next month I am going to get up in front of a bunch of people and moderate the fuck out of a panel on Imposter Syndrome, and people, this post will be in the handouts, because it is the ANTIDOTE.

I’m Katje Fucking Sabin. I can edit to AP style, help ladies have babies, and braid hair in the Renaissance style really well. But the thing I’m most proud of is raising four fucking awesome kids. Right out of the parenting chute, I started to question the cultural assumptions of how we raise kids here in the U.S. I did a hell of a lot of research to question those assumptions (before the Internet, too, when it involved books and microfiche and interviews). And then I went ahead and applied the results of that research… which meant I bucked about every rule and expectation as a modern American mother. I regret nothing, except maybe not starting earlier. And now I’m writing about the experience. Someday you will see my name on the cover of the hot new mothering book: Katje Fucking Sabin.

Who am I? I’m Meg Thornton. I can do anything intellectual I put my mind to, be it cultural theory, calculus or computer programming. I am probably smarter than you. I’m efficient when I want to be, and I make crocheted blankets. I’m stronger than I look, I am capable of great stamina, and I am very good at managing money. I have a good singing voice and I can carry a tune. I have an extremely good memory (the recall may be getting slower these days, but the knowledge is still there). I can explain things clearly, I can write grammatical English, and I’m good at spotting typos and glitches. I can troubleshoot. I can cook.

Yeah, I’m Meg Thornton, and I’m all of that and more. I can live through anything you fucking well throw at me and turn around and spit in your eye at the other end of it. I’ve been working and studying for longer than most of the kids in the BSc course I’m doing have been ALIVE. I’ve been there, done that, and the t-shirt is being used for dusters.

After writing all that lot, I’m not at all ashamed of the Awesome that is me.

Yesterday I was reviewing my notes for my last final and I mentioned to my fiance that this kind of last minute cramming was how I aced a major final last year. He went off on a tirade about how hard he had to study for that kind of stuff (he graduated recently) and how unfair it is that some people can just review there notes the day before and get an A. I almost apologized, I started to, but then I said you know what? That is part of my awesomeness! You are just going to have to deal with it! He mumbled something about how it’s still unfair and I just said life’s not fair and some people have excellent recall.

I have fibromyalgia (diagnosed 10 years ago), severe plant (diagnosed 15 years ago) and food allergies (diagnosed 1 1/2 years ago) and a learning disability that technically classifies me as someone with a really high functioning ASD (undiagnosed for 19 years).

I am 23 and a commuter student at a state university. I will graduate with honors this December, having paid my own way and with a GPA of 3.6778

None of my specialists thought this was possible.

I have kept a steady job since the second semester of college and managed to balance out work and classes. I have started up a website dealing with original fiction with a friend and it is doing marvelously.

I am Ivory Fucking Gates and I am a shit-hot writer. The Oxford Comma is my bitch and I eat subject-verb agreement for midnight snacks. Narrative beats are where I live and I can make you believe six impossible things before breakfast.

As others have said, never too late to own your awesomeness! (I posted before, under another name, but I think the spam filter ate it. But that’s okay, because this is new and improved anyway!)

I still have not read all the comments, but every time I read another one, I get all teary and heart-full with pride for each of you being amazing at who you are!

Me, I’m the Accidental Tangoiste. I graduated college with a double major, magna cum laude, one month after my mother’s death, and I only needed an extension on one final paper to do it. Then, instead of curling up into a helpless ball of grief, the way I really, really wanted to, I went out and got one of the scarce jobs in the field I wanted to go into.

During that time, every goddamn day that I got out of bed in the morning was a victory. Sometimes they still are.

I’m good at my job. Although I handle professional conflict with tact, humor, kindness, and excellent judgment, I put up with no shit. I do not settle for less than the best in my work, from myself or anyone else.

I fell into tango by chance several years ago, and I am damn good at it. Last year, speaking almost no Spanish, I up and took off to Buenos Aires. There I danced with the old maestros, the milogueros, the ones who’ve been dancing for 50, 60 years. They asked me for more dances; they were unbelieving that I had not learned there. They have remembered me, and I cherish the memory of each of my dances with them.

I wear sensible shoes for walking around every day, but those three-inch stiletto tango shoes? I have conquered them. I can dance all night in them and feel like a goddess the entire time. Yes, they are frivolous, and yes, they are impractical, and yes, they are expensive, but yes, yes, most of all, YES–I love them. I no longer apologize to myself and my sensible shoes for this.

I speak French so well that French people cannot tell I’m American. I love fiercely. I make my friends laugh until their sides hurt. I crochet, and I’m handy with a sword. I make a mean marinara sauce. I am a fine choral soprano with a pure, sweet voice and a dang good pitch memory.

I have Damn. Sexy. Legs.

I have not gotten where I am without a lot of support, and my gratitude for my loved ones is infinite.

I am changing my life.

I am the Accidental fucking Tangoiste, and let’s face it, it is no accident! It is way past time I admitted that, yes, I am awesome!

Interesting post. I was just thinking the other day how annoyed I get when people ask me what I do for a living. It’s not their asking; it’s what they say after I respond.

“I’m getting my Ph.D.”

“Oh, that’s nice. In what field?”

“Software Engineering”

“Wow! You must be smart.”

To which I have no reasonable response, as they are now expecting me to be self-deprecating. “Not really”/”Oh, it’s not that hard”/”Oh, I just really like it”. I see no reason to curse here though. My new response is short and sweet.

“Yes. I am.”

BTW, I’m Ciera Fucking Jaspan, and no, I will not work for your son’s startup.

I hadn’t actually ever thought of this as being a notable strength of mine (you know, just one of those things that I was neither particularly good nor particularly bad at), but I am evidently so good at long-term planning in the library and come up with such good and unique ideas, that there is some non-zero chance that I may get to design an entirely new more responsibility-filled position for me to be promoted into. (And while we’re at it, I want a pony. But the important thing is that if we had the money, my supervisors would want to do this.)

Thank you for this fucking awesome post :) Also, I’m loving reading the comments – it’s great to see so much awesomeness in one thread! Here’s my non-humble addition :)

I can write, and make things sound shiny. I speak English better than most native speakers.
I can understand complex ideas, and explain them to other people well.
My photos kick ass.
I had a charity sales pitch good enough to make random strangers on the street give me their bank account details.
I can manage teams of people, and make things happen.
I can entertain. I can tweak social dynamics. I can listen.
I can think about maths, logic and genomes. I can do programming, and it makes me happy.
I’ve organised events so popular that security had to interfere :p
I can dance with fire, and look pretty while I’m at it.
I can look pretty while I’m not at it too :)
I can love with passion. I can fuck with enthusiasm.
I can explore countries whose languages I don’t speak.
I can face my own fears.

I am not some fragile damsel in distress. I’m Pyromaniac fucking Harlot, and I’m one fierce warrior woman.

I am Sarah Fucking Frantz and I’ve basically almost single-handedly created and founded an academic field. I study romance novels (yes, THOSE books) because they fucking DESERVE to be studied and I am the founder and president of the International Association for the Study of Popular Romance. We had a kick-ass conference last year in Brisbane. This year we’re in Belgium with a kick-ass list of people presenting, and next year we’re going to rock the world’s socks in New York fucking City. AND we’ve got a peer-reviewed journal coming out soon. People give us money for the conferences, we’ve got almost 200 members all over the world, I’m going to write a book about romance heroes, and it’s all because I’m incredible at collaboration, making sure people do their assigned tasks, and at getting things done myself.

I can preach. I can stand in a pulpit and expound upon the Bible, and I am pretty damn good at it, and I’m not sorry. I can preach a sermon that will make you cry. I can preach a sermon that will leave you speechless. I can preach and you will hear something about God you’d always secretly hoped was true but never actually expected anyone to say out loud. For that matter, I’m really good at finding God in passages and places you’d never expect.

I’ve never met a vocabulary test whose ass I haven’t kicked, and I love words more than most anything, and when I sit down and start writing, I am Flannery O’Connor and Anne Lamott and Mary Oliver all rolled into one.

After 20 years of trying, I finally wrote a really interesting academic paper on a topic I really cared about, and I’m actually thinking about getting it published, rather than being sure no one would be interested. Why wouldn’t they be interested? I WROTE AN INTERESTING PAPER.

I remember details of times and places and people that no one else even thinks about.

I can smile at you so gladly that you can’t help but smile back.
I give big, nurturing, generous, gentle hugs.

I like the sound of my voice, and I can make music — I mean I can really make music, not just make the right notes or pretty sounds. I can take four pitches and a short phrase and when they come out of me they work together to mean something.

I stick it to the Man like it’s a reflex.

I’ve had the same screen name for a decade, and the same LJ name for 9 years.

I can give back rubs that turn recipients into piles of mush. (And giving good back rubs relaxes *me*!) I know how to listen with my fingers; I’m good at touching bodies and understanding them, and I’m getting better at it all the time.

I can make food that is good to eat and clothes that are fun to wear. I’m not afraid of mistakes, meeting new people, being the center of attention, hurting, learning to dance, or being awkward. I’m not afraid of my own body any more. I know what it does and what it’s good at. It’s good at a lot of awesome stuff.

I am The-Fucking-Brat and I’m really good at knowing shit about cricket. And rugby. And sport in fucking general. And I don’t care if that makes me manly or “one of the boys” because I fucking love sport so there.

And I’m going to be a really fucking good referee.

And I’m fucking “conventionally pretty” and that doesn’t make me vapid, boring, stupid or not worth knowing.

I am Nova Fucking Robinson and I’ve never heard of you before, but my friend loved your post and sent it to me…and now I love it, too.

I am brave and honest and an awesome communicator. I am steadfast in my belief that people are good and I refuse to condemn us. I make beautiful art, am hysterically funny, a terrific mom (despite, and probably in large part BECAUSE I don’t follow a lot of the rules) and I kick ass at spontaneous fun. Also, I rock at ASL and am becoming a skilled interpreter.

This is awesome. Everyone’s comments sound like they should be the introduction of the main character in some big-name action-type movie, and it’s GREAT!

I am Kitrona Fucking Sainte, and I know things about things you’ve never even HEARD of. I have more, and more accurate, medical knowledge in my head than any three books (especially if you pick those three books at random)! I know what makes costumes historically accurate or not, in several different time periods! I know where to find almost anything anyone could ever want on the internet, I have half of Finding Nemo memorized, and my kids are awesome because /I/ parent them. I have AMAZING hair, too. I’m playful and fun and sexy and it’s all about my BRAIN, cuz that’s where it all comes from.